


Back In Time Made Simple By The Loss

by Hekate1308



Series: Demons Among Us [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, Magical Realism, Morse is a Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22614979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Twenty years ago, their oldest son had been taken from them. Finally, they would learn what had become of him. It turned out to be more than they could ever have imagined.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Fred Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Joan Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Sam Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Win Thursday
Series: Demons Among Us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627120
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Back In Time Made Simple By The Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This story deals with children being taken away from their parents. Also, although it is not in the least bit intended, due to the nature of the story it contains what could be interpreted as a family using a child's deadname. Again, that's not what it is, I just wanted to make sure.  
> Also, you may notice that this is part of a series. This is due to the fact that I had one idea, and then couldn't decide which direction I should take it, so I wrote both. Maybe you just want to read one. Maybe you'll read both! (In that case, I would be really curious which version you prefer).

**Then**

“Please! You can’t take him away from us, you can’t –“

“LEAVE OUR BOY ALONE!!!”

“You know the law as well as we do, come on, son –“

“DON’T CALL HIM THAT!”

“MUM, DAD, HELP, NO, I DON’T WANT TO – _MUM_!!!!”

Material ripping. “NO!”

“MUM! _DAD_! HE’S GOT ME –“

“DON’T YOU DARE –“

“MUM! HELP! _HELP!!!”_

A car driving away.

The sounds of desperate sobs. 

The silence of hopeless rage.

**Now**

Fred’s first impression of the liaison Shirley Trewlove had been that she was capable and efficient, and so far, she had proven to be both, greeting him kindly then taking a file out of her bag.

How he yearned to simply yank it into his hands and devour it.

He told himself that it meant nothing that it was so thin. Lots of thin files around. Could be anything. Maybe they just started a new one.

She cleared her throat. “Now, Inspector… I am happy to say that your oldest son is still alive.”

Something in him uncurled as the burden of twenty years of not knowing was lifted.

Only for another to be added when she continued, “However, in this case, there are special circumstances involved…”

* * *

The city was buzzing with the news, even though no one really knew how many children had been taken over the years and how many would now be returned. Part of that was because the Firm had kept a tight hold on all information over the years, and another because parents of those who had been robbed (for so Peter would always see it. Screw that safety and “keeping things normal” talk. It had only ever been about fear, and power, and cruelty) barely talked about it.

He was grateful, really, that the Old Man had at least warned him about what was to happen last week.

They’d been sitting in the pub, having lunch, but Peter had been the only one eating. The Old Man had mostly stared at his sandwich.

Then he’d said, quite suddenly, “We put in a request too.”

There was of course only one request he could be talking of, that would be worth being talked of right now.

Peter didn’t know what to say. It all sounded so contrite in his head.

Thankfully he continued. “It’s about our oldest boy. Win insisted on calling him Fred after me once she held him, you know.”

He hadn’t, but no surprise there. Peter hadn’t been working with DI Thursday long, and again, most people avoided the subject, buried photos and mementos and memories so it would hurt less.

“He was twelve when they came. To this day we don’t know how they found out. Never forgot that one man. Ripped him right out of his mother’s arms while two others held me back. As they drove away, he was still screaming for us.”

The raw pain in his voice, still so strong after twenty years, made it difficult to listen, but it was all Peter could do. After all, what comfort could he give? They said a lot of them had perished at a young age. It was always a risk, someone just burning up. Fickle magic, no protection, certainly not from the Firm.

Two to one chance, they claimed. A two to one chance that all Thursday would get was a piece of paper with a date of death on it. Not even a grave. Not even a headstone a mother could put flowers on.

Peter suddenly wondered if this was where Mrs. Thursday’s well-known maternal care for those officers who worked under her husband came from. He himself had already been dragged into the house several times to have tea. Maybe it wasn’t about them at all. Maybe it was all about her boy, her oldest boy, who’d have been their age and maybe would have become a policeman like his Dad…

He cleared his throat. “Sir, I –“ he didn’t know how to tell him how sorry he was, was well aware from his own experiences that sometimes, words didn’t help in the slightest.

“It’s alright, lad” and the Old Man reached out and squeezed his shoulder, “Not your fault. Thanks for listening.”

He nodded.

“They told us we’d get the information next Wednesday. They have officers for that, specially trained people.”

Going around and telling people that the child they had so desperately hoped would one day return to them was long gone, they would have to be, Peter supposed.

“Win wanted to be there too, but I put my foot down. I’ll be the one to tell the others.”

He probably felt that this was some form of protection, the protection he couldn‘t give his son when he needed it.

As if that would soften the blow.

But Peter thought it wise not to say anything about that.

* * *

Come Wednesday, he kept his eyes wide open; and sure enough, eventually he heard the words, “Hello, I am Officer Shirley Trewlove. I am here to speak to DI Fred Thursday?”

No special uniform, no shoving it into people’s faces why she was here.

Peter stepped up to her. “I am Sergeant Jakes, DI Thursday’s bagman. I’d be glad to show you to him.”

“Thank you” she smiled at him and he wondered if the smile could tell him anything. Was it a smile that said _I don’t want to be here but I have to be the bearer of bad news_ or one that claimed _He is one of the lucky ones?_

Impossible to say.

And so he led her to the Old Man’s office and settled down to wait.

* * *

“You see, Inspector, over time, several children were not brought up to work for the Firm after all” Officer Trewlove explained, politely ignoring his flinch when she mentioned them. “Those who were judged too powerful to control, for one thing.”

Was she about to tell him that his twelve-year-old had been put down like a rabid dog? But she’d said he was alive…

“Those children were handed over to the magical community, thus actively blurring the line the Firm itself was so firm about all these years.”

Bunch of hypocrites, Fred had always though. There were magical creatures all over the country, but humans weren’t allowed to have magical children because of old prejudices and fears.

“Of course it was after the Procedure, so they couldn’t be traced until now.”

“Are you saying… they had him adopted?” He hated to think of the Procedure, but imagining Freddie in a loving home was much more pleasant than believing him an agent of the Firm, doing to others as had been done to them because this was all he had ever known.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” She hesitated slightly but then moved on. “Your son – perhaps due to being one of the older children – looked after the others.”

“He was always very protective of his siblings” he replied quietly.

She nodded sympathetically. “This protectiveness paired with his intelligence and, I was given to understand, a certain boyish charm” (That certainly sounded like Fred; always been able to charm his mother to forget any little transgressions, he had been) “caught the attention of Constance and Cyril Morse.”

Fred tried to fight the wave of fury that threatened to engulf him. How dare they, how dare they take our – but they hadn’t. they’d given a home to a poor boy.

He hated that he had to ask, but forced himself to. “What is his name?”

“They named him Endeavour.”

 _Endeavour_? What kind of –

“It’s a – it’s a traditional demon name, Inspector.”

“Demon?”

She nodded. “they were demons.”

His son had grown up in a demonic household. Fred didn’t know much about demons. They mostly kept to themselves.

“And they gave him a traditional demonic upbringing as well” she added, as if ripping off a band aid.

“What does that mean?”

“Demons think highly of duty and honour. Your son has been serving in the Guard for years, and is now a highly decorated officer.”

The Guard. The police force of the magical community? There was some solace in that. Maybe the Procedure hadn’t wiped everything from his memory.

“His parents died serving the Guard about two years ago.”

He balled his hands into fists under the table so he wouldn’t see just how much the word parents affected him.

“He is very well-respected and liked in the community” she added. “And he has agreed to meet you, should you wish to do so.”

“Should I wish –“ Didn’t their boy want to know where he came from?

She seemed to guess his question. “I am sorry if I sound like a broken record, but you have to remember that – well, when demons take someone in, they do so without reserve. That person _becomes_ a demon to them. So, while Endeavour Morse may be a human with magic, his mindset is that of a fully grown demon. If you wish a meeting, he would consider it his duty to attend, like he considers it his duty to honour the memory of his adoptive parents and keep the city safe.”

Just duty. Nothing more. Not even curiosity.

Fred hadn’t hoped for yearning or love, but at least curiosity.

“They don’t think like us” Shirley Trewlove tried to console him. “You are aware that demons are very formal?”

He nodded; even in the brief interactions he’d had with demons he couldn’t have overlooked that.

“They also don’t use each other’s first names until they are close, and they don’t touch strangers.”

He numbly realized that this was a gentle way of telling him that after all these years, he couldn’t even hug his boy.

Good God, what would he tell Win? She’d yearned to pull him back into her arms since they’d dragged him out of them.

Fred had failed them that day. He vowed never to do so again. He couldn’t touch Freddie until they had built up a relationship? Fine by him. He’d have to do that, then.

“Should I go and talk to your wife, now, Inspector?” she asked him. “I do understand that you are in fact a married man and that she’s still alive. She might find it difficult to comprehend that she cannot…” she trailed off delicately.

A part of Fred insisted that he should be the one to break it to Win, but Trewlove had a point. She should probably receive the explanation from an expert, and Fred himself had not yet wrapped his head around all of this. “I could ask my sergeant to drive you.”

“Thank you very much”. She got up. “Commander Morse” Commander he noted, rather a high rank for someone not yet out of his early thirties, “said to tell you that if you were amenable, he would come to your office at three pm.”

He nodded since it seemed the best course of action. The he stood as well and they made their way into the squad room. “Sergeant Jakes? This is Officer Trewlove.”

“We already met” she said, then shook hands with him.

“Would you please drive her to our place? She needs to talk to our Win.”

“Of course” he answered immediately, his eyes flitting between the two of them.

Fred forced himself to casually say, “Sharing the good news, you know.”

“Oh”. He perked up and smiled. “Glad to hear it, sir.”

 _Maybe you wouldn’t be if you knew the entire truth_ , he thought before he could stop himself. “Alright then. Thank you, Officer.”

“Just doing my duty, Inspector.”

Something about her expression struck him, but before he could find out what it was, she had left with Jakes.

He sighed and went to see Strange. There was somethings strangely comforting about someone who didn’t know yet. “Constable, at three pm a Commander of the Guard is going to come pay us a visit. When he does, immediately lead him to my officer, would you?”

“Of course, sir” he said, obviously curious but reluctant to ask.

Just as well.

Fred needed to sort out his thoughts first, anyway.

* * *

As was often the Casen when he had nothing especially taxing to do, Jim had turned on the station radio and was absentmindedly listening to it while he worked on the report about the car burglar.

_The deal the Government made with the Firm guarantees complete immunity to all involved in exchange for the information on the missing children –_

Jim still wasn’t sure if the deal had been a good idea. He understood that parents all over the country were desperate to know what had happened, but it felt wrong to have the child snatchers, as his mum had always called them with a sneer, get off scotch free.

Just because someone had magic they would come and drag them away from their family and then make them forget about it through that Procedure of theirs.

It wasn’t _fair_ that they shouldn’t pay for it, plan and simple.

He’d been working quietly for some time when a smooth voice said, “Excuse me, I am here to see DI Fred Thursday.”

He looked up and only remembered that the Old Man had talked about a member of the Guard coming to see him when he realized he was very clearly talking to a demon.

Oh, he didn’t have his black eyes out, but he didn’t have to. There was something in his calm, confident stare, his straight stance that basically screamed it to the world.

And that was before Jim even realized he, like all male demons he had ever seen, was not wearing a tie.

They said they wanted to always be ready for a fight, and that a tie would be a disadvantage. He’d never learned if that was true or not.

“Of course” he said after hesitating perhaps a bit too long, but the demon’s expression have nothing away. Would have been a miracle if it had. “Whom may I –“

“Commander Endeavour Morse of the Guard.”

He nodded. “This way, please.”

He led him to the office. As was the way with every demon Jim had ever come close enough to notice, he moved so quietly that he wouldn’t have known he was there if he hadn’t seen him turn towards the door with his own two eyes.

They’d always struck Jim as a little bit creepy, if he was being honest, but then, he’d never heard anything particularly negative about them.

* * *

Fred stared at his clock. If what Officer Trewlove had said was true, then Freddie would be punctual.

He was.

A knock on his door.

Strange stepping in and announcing “Commander Morse of the Guard, sir”.

And then he left and Fred came in and he found himself for the first time alone with his son for twenty years.

His very first thought was _Mum_.

Their oldest had always had golden-reddish hair, but now that he was grown up, the fact that he had Fred Mum’s – the grandmother who had died a few years ago, clutching Fred’s hand and making him promise to tell Freddie that they’d never stopped loving him – colouring had become even more obvious. His eyes though – his eyes were still the same colour, the one Win had always insisted that he had inherited from his maternal great-grandmother.

He hadn’t grown as tall as he’d once thought he would, but that didn’t matter.

Their child had come back.

He didn’t know what to say. Twenty long years he’d had time to think of something and now he had nothing.

It didn’t help that Fred looked at him as calm as they came, then bowed and Said, “Inspector Thursday.” He even stood to attention.

“You don’t have to do that” Fred hastened to say.

Something that he desperately hopped wasn’t disgust or distrust flickered in his eyes for a moment. “That would be highly impolite, Inspector.”

He was about to tell him to call him Dad already when he remembered what Trewlove had said.

His son had practically grown up in another culture.

He desperately searched for a topic, then decided to grab the bull by the horns. “I don’t know how much you have been told –“

“I was handed my file” he replied evenly. “Although there weren’t many details. Biological mother and father, two siblings. And I was extracted when I was twelve.”

How he hated that word. _Extracted_. The Firm had used it for years as a way to hide that they were stealing children. “Yes” he said. “One of the Officers – Shirley Trewlove –“

He nodded to indicate he knew her, still standing at attention. It made Fred’s spine ache to see him stand up so straight. “She told me you were adopted.”

“They were honourable people.”

And that was apparently all he had to say about those who had taken him in as their own and raised him.

Again, he reminded himself that he was a demon. “She said they died. I am sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. Mother and Father died fulfilling our duty of protecting others from occult forces. I say the prayers for the departed for them on the holy days.”

Was there no trace of grief or sadness at the death of those who’d watched him grow into a man?

Freddie had so expressive as a child too, constantly beaming and laughing. Fred could still hear the sounds of it echoing in his memories.

He had yet to smile.

He walked up to him slowly, carefully, as he would a wild animal. “Listen…” he trailed off.

“You can say Morse, Inspector.”

He supposed he had to be happy that he didn’t insist on _Commander_.

“Morse, then” he continued. “I know this is…” he raised his hand to clasp his shoulder and remembered just in time, so he helplessly waved into the air. “not easy”.

Finally he got some emotion out of Freddie but it wasn’t one he had hoped for.

 _Puzzlement_. “I do think it is easy. I have magic, and therefore was extracted from my birth family at age 12. I then was adopted by Constance and Cyril Morse and now have been informed of my biological heritage.”

“Yes, well, what I meant – it’s very…” he trailed off, then forced himself to continue. “IT’s very kind that you came to see me immediately, but it would mean the world to your mother if she could meet you too.”

“I can go do so right now – my superior officer knows where I am. Should I repair to the address in the file?”

“How about you drop by for dinner instead?” he suggested. “Officer Trewlove is still… briefing Mum.”

He nodded. “In that case, I will return to the Guard House.”

He hoped that an explanation would follow, like what case he was working on, anything, just one tiny little detail to suggest some familiarity. But instead he added, “Unless there is something else I should know, Inspector?”

“Right now – not that I am aware of.”

He nodded, then bowed again to bid him a polite foredeck.

Fred waited for a while (not being able to listen to his footsteps because he moved so damn swiftly) and then punched the wall with all his might.

They had taken away their child and what they had gotten back was a robot. An emotionless façade. He hadn’t even reacted when talking about the only parents he remembered.

He sawt down heavily at his desk.

How could Win and the children be expected to understand?

* * *

Officer Trewlove had sent Peter back to the station, claiming that she would make her own way back to her office later since she didn’t know how long her talk with Mrs. Thursday would take.

And so, he arrived just in time to see who he had to suppose was DI Thursday’s son emerge from his room.

Didn’t look much like him, but what did he know about families.

He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the situation, but then, that probably was not a surprise because –

Peter had seen his fair share of demons ins his day.

But _how_? The Thursdays would have noticed if their son had been born a demon (apart from the fact that peter had never heard of such a thing before).

He would have liked to say that it was mostly concern for his superior officer that made him walk up to the door as soon as the demon-slash-Thursday had disappeared.

He was just in time to hear a loud thump, followed by Thursday’s curse, and knocked. “Sir?”

He opened, then cradled his right hand in his left. “Yes, Sergeant?”

He knew he was overstepping boundaries, yet couldn’t bring himself to care. “I was wondering if you’d like to take a quick break at the pub, sir. No offense, but you look like you could use the pint.”

For a moment, he thought he would explode in his face or treat him like his wall, but then his shoulders slumped. “You’re right” he admitted.

Peter nodded.

* * *

When Win saw the friendly young woman on her doorstep, she believed her to be a saleswoman of some kind, but instead she told her, “Mrs. Thursday? Officer Shirley Trewlove. This is about your oldest son, who’s alive and well, may I add.”

It took her a moment to understand – to realize that her fears had been unfounded – but then she pressed her hands against her trembling lips.

“Now, Mrs. Thursday” Shirley said kindly, “I think we should have a cup of tea and I’ll explain everything.”

She nodded gratefully.

* * *

Half an hour later, she was still happier than she could ever have imagined that her son was alive – and yet – and yet –

“I can’t even hold him in my arms?” she asked quietly. “After all these years?”

“Not right away I’m afraid Mrs. Thursday. He will need time to adjust. Demon culture is very strict when it comes to these things.”

She nodded and looked down into her tea.

Shirley touched her hand. “I know this is complicated” she said softly., “And I know that part of you wished that you could just continue where you left off. That’s just human.”

“But he isn’t anymore” she replied, still not looking at the officer. She knew it was impolite but couldn’t help herself. She was afraid that if she looked into a sympathetic face right now, she would start to cry.

How was she supposed to tell Joan and Sam? Despite their best efforts, they had grown up idolizing the big brother who had been stolen from them. Sam especially, only having been two at the time and therefore having little to no recollection of the real Freddie, had imagined him to be everything a perfects big brother should be, and Joan, mostly because she and Freddie had been very close despite their age difference, was scarcely better.

And they wouldn’t even be allowed to hug him.

“This doesn’t mean that this is the end of it” Shirley told her. “Most demons – and I definitely include your son in that group; we’ve met on occasion – are fundamentally decent. He might appear distant and withdrawn in the beginning, but they tend to soften the more you cultivate the acquaintance.”

Win knew she meant best, nut it still hurt to be described as her own child’s _acquaintance_.

Her mind strayed back to the day he had been born. How small and fragile he had seemed when they had brought him to her after cleaning him up, and she had been terrified that something would happen to him.

And then they had come for him when he was twelve and after they had started to hope they’d be able to keep his magic a secret forever.

“It won’t be easy. I won’t pretend that it will. But he’s been more than willing to meet your husband, and if I am right, he will agree to see the rest of his family too. I understand there’s an uncle and cousins, too – ”

“We are not in contact anymore.”

The day her brother-in-law – barely six months after they had lost Freddie – had insinuated that they might be better off without their oldest since magic was dangerous had been the day Fred had thrown him out of the house and told him never to bother seeing them again. It was one of the few times Win had whole-heartedly agreed with an outburst of his.

“I see”. Paradoxically, Win had the feeling that she could indeed understand. Maybe it was her training.

“I’ll have to get going, I am afraid. There are a few more visits I have to make.” The way her face fell suggested that she wouldn’t be to tell more people that their children were alive and well.

“I’m sorry”. She meant it. Just a little twist of fate, and she would have been one of those she had to break much worse news to.

“Someone has to do it. Thank you for the tea, Win.”

Win shook her hand warmly. She was making the best she could out of a bad situation.

As soon as she was gone, Win made her way to the room they never spoke off and opened a closet. Her eyes lingered on the blouse with the missing button, the button Freddie had torn off when trying to cling to her that day.

She would wait forever if she just got to hug him one last time.

* * *

As soon as they reached the pub, Peter went to get their drinks while Thursday sat down, looking for all the world like a man who was carrying the wight of it on his shoulders.

He only stirred when Peter put his drink in front of him. “Thanks.”

He sat down across the inspector and studied him. They might not have been working together long, but the life he’d led had insured that Peter could read people, and he was well aware that Thursday was one of those who now and then simply needed to talk to someone.

He was right. “So you saw him leaving?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He – he was owe of the lucky ones who got out of the Firm’s grip. He was adopted and raised a demon.” He paused. “He called me Inspector and stood to attention. My own flesh and blood.”

“Demons are very… correct” Peter replied carefully. “I’ve worked with a few before.”

At his old post, there had now and then been cases involving magic; and due to their honour being bound to serving their ideals, many demons preferred to work in the Guard, after all.

“Yes, well, but that doesn’t mean he has to look at his own father like we’re colleagues” Thursday spat.

Peter winced. “I’m sorry. It can’t be easy.”

“Not your fault, lad. Nor is it his. Or mine. It’s _theirs_ , and theirs alone.”

And Peter found himself desperately hoping that no member of the Firm would never set foot near the station. He couldn’t be sure the Old Man wouldn’t do something terribly misguided if they did.

Especially if that man who had taken his son from his wife showed up.

But what were the odds of that?”

“He’s agreed to see the others, though. He’s coming to dinner tonight; still have to call Win to let her know.”

“That’s a good sign” he said without knowing whether or not it was indeed, but really, _You should wait and see and not expect too much_ was not what DI Thursday wanted to hear at the moment.

And so they silently finished their drinks. 

* * *

Unbeknownst to DI Thursday and Sergeant Jakes.

Ten minutes later.

A car that had been parked nearby.

Two pair of eyes watching them leaving the pub.

Voices.

“Everything seems to be going according to plan.” A clever voice; a tightly controlled voice. Maybe with a hint of something that could be mischief or could be something darker, or infinitely sadder, depending on who you asked.

“Don’t worry.” Another, lighter voice. Friendly and intelligent, really, when you thought about it, although most people normally didn’t because they were distracted by other things.

“I’m not” said the first voice in the tone of someone who was very worried and equally anxious not to let it show.

“I know it’s not easy.”

“No. I didn’t expect it to be.”

And the voices fell silent as two pair of eyes watched the police man retreat further and further.

* * *

From the moment Fred called her to let her know, Win was all a-flutter.

She would make stew of course, Freddie’s favourite meal.

It didn’t matter that he was a demon to her at that moment.

She was going to see her boy again.

It had haunted her for years – still haunted her, although the nightmares had abated somewhat – how that monster had ripped him out of her arms and pushed her back while he’d screamed for her, for his mum to come save him.

But that was in the past. What was important now was the present, and the future.

By the time the children came home, the house was spotless and the stew brewing.

“Mum?” Joan asked worriedly – of course, they too knew what day it was. “What –“

“Your brother is coming for dinner.”

Her eyes widened. “Freddie’s alive?”

She nodded. “Alive and doing well. Your father already talked to him.”

Joan beamed, and Sam looked like he had been struck by lightning.

Win took a deep breath. “However, there is something you have to know…”

* * *

They had promised to be on their best behaviour, naturally.

Fred came home at six.

“Seven, you said?”

He nodded. “He’ll be punctual.”

She yearned to hear his real opinion of Freddie, but it was clear hew as reluctant top speak in front of Joan and Sam.

Still – they all waited anxiously for seven o’ clock.

Fred had been correct; there was a knock on their door the second the clock in the hallway struck the hour.

Win wanted to hurry there, but had promised Fred that he would handle the introduction as to not overwhelm Freddie (she couldn’t shake off the impression that her husband was rather convinced that he wouldn’t be).

And so she waited in the dining room with Joan and Sam.

* * *

Fred had hoped against all expectation that there would be a smile on his son’s face or at least that he would be obviously happy to see him again.

Instead, he gave him the calm look he’d already in his office that afternoon. “Good evening, Inspector.”

“Hello, Morse.” He shouldn’t have hated the name so much, and yet he couldn’t help it.

He stepped aside to let him in. “The others are in the dining room.”

For a moment, he completely forgot about the Procedure and so expected Freddie to make his own way inside the house; instead he kept standing there, politely – too politely – waiting for him.

He realized and quickly led him into the room.

They all stood up when they saw him.

“Hello” Win said quietly, apparently having decided against calling him by any name. It might have been too much to ask of her.

“Good evening, Mrs. Thursday. Miss Thursday, Master Thursday.”

 _Master_ , like in a Charles Dickens novel.

Not even a handshake was bestowed on any of them.

He sat down on the offered seat though; he was there. For now, that had to be enough.

Win served them the meal; she appeared calm as always, although Fred could feel a quiet desperation radiating off of her, a hope that her son would remember his favourite treat.

Instead, he simply thanked her and waited politely for all of them to start eating before doing so himself.

Fred wondered if they had as little appetite as he had.

“Is it true you work for the Guard?” Sam finally burst forth.

Sadly, Freddie only frowned. “It would be highly dishonourable to lie about my occupation.”

Before Fred could intervene, however, Sam replied, obviously confused, “Never thought you would.”

“Oh. I apologize; I have been mostly surrounded by my fellow demons and other creatures. Human customs don’t come to me easily.”

It probably wouldn’t’ have been that bad if he hadn’t sounded so distant.

Fred saw Win look down from the corner of his eyes and wished desperately that he could make her feel better.

Freddie, though, was currently busy answering Sam’s questions. “Yes. I entered the Guard Academy when I was eighteen years old; four years later, I took the oath of service. I have been working there ever since.”

“It’s kind of what Dad does, right? Police, just with more magic?”

For a moment, Fred almost believed that something like a smile had flattered across Freddie’s face, but it was gone so quickly it could easily have been a trick of the lightning. “Something like it. Yesterday I arrested a banshee.”

“What had they done?”

He frowned again, apparently not understanding that Sam assumed it must be something exciting to do with magic. “They were a thief. That’s forbidden.” He said it as if he didn’t expect Sam to know.

They all fell silent, picking at their food – apart from Freddie, who with calm, measured movements, as he did everything else.

Win obviously ached to shower him with hugs and comfort him and ask all the questions that were on the tip of her tongue – but she couldn’t, so she had yet to open her mouth.

It was Joan who saved them. “Do you still like music… Morse?”

“As a matter of fact, yes” he replied, this time with at least an expression of interest.

“And what kind of music?”

“I find the cadences of classical music particularly pleasing.”

Pleasing? Good God, he’d never heard a young man talk like this. Then again, maybe he was typical young demon behaviour. Fred reminded himself that he was very much a demon, even though he still could see only see the twelve-year-old who had been taken from them.

“We used to dance to the radio” Joan suddenly recalled and he was glad that the clattering of their cutlery hid the quiet sound of distress that Win made at the memory.

“I don’t remember it. I am sorry.”

“Not your fault, Morse.” Joan paused for a moment then decided, “This is ridiculous. Ignoring this won’t do us any good.”

Now Fred was definitely about to say something – but then, to his utter surprise, Freddie actually smiled. “You are very direct.” It was obvious he took it as a compliment, and Joan beamed to understand that it was. “I do agree; it is rather unwise to ignore what happened. After all, I was extracted –“

This time, no one would have been able to overhear Win’s intake of breath.

Freddie looked away and Fred wanted to explode until he realized it was the polite (albeit) cold thing to do so clearly he was trying his best.

“Sorry Mum” Joan said quietly.

“I did not mean to cause anyone distress” Freddie said at the same time, still not meeting Win’s eyes.

“It’s like Joanie said – it’s not your fault, dearest” she replied firmly. “I was just – I – would you – is there a chance your memories will come back?”

“There are some who think so and some who don’t he answered. “From my experiences with magic, it’s definitely possible.”

That was about as good news as they could probably expect, and Fred admired how Win held her head up and smiled. “That sounds good enough for me.”

Freddie nodded. “There are also experts working on eventually reversing the Procedure. I have never personally looked into it, but we’ll see.”

Never – he’d never been curious to find out who he came from.

Fred could only imagine what Win was going through.

“So your adoptive parents… what were they like?” Joan, never one to let anything lie, asked.

“They were dutiful, honourable people. They taught me all they knew. It was because of their work for the Guard that I decided to pursue the same career.”

Fred realized he was grasping his fork tightly, and that for a moment, he’d been swept up in a fantasy where Freddie had been allowed to stay with them and was now working for the police where Fred could keep an eye on him.

“And what were they like?” Joan repeated.

Freddie stared at her. “I said that –“

“Oh, I know that. I meant – what did they like to do? Were they musical too? Was she a good cook?”

“They shared the household chores in equal share, as anyone should” he replied somewhat helplessly.

“And? Any good? As good as Mum’s?”

“This stew is quite pleasing.”

They might have raised him a good demon, but they had done little to nothing to make sure he could even make small talk.

“Oh” he suddenly remembered as if that was a big thing, “Papa enjoyed studying humans’ cars.”

“Papa?”

“Papa’s parents came from Germany” he shrugged.

“You like cars too?”

“I have always found Jaguars rather appealing.”

 _One show of passion, son_ , Fred pleaded internally. _Just one moment, just to prove not as indifferent to it all as you appear to be. A proper smile, a tear, something._

But instead he continued to eat and answer Sam’s and Joan’s questions with all the polite distance of a business acquaintance.

Fred tried concentrating on his own food. It didn’t really work.

* * *

It had probably been too much to wish for that Freddie would wish to stay behind and spend some more time with them, but soon after dinner, having declined dessert (Fred wondered if it was a demon thing; Freddie had always had a sweet tooth, if he remembered correctly. All their children had), he got up to say goodbye.

They all showed him to the door. “You’ll come again, won’t you?” Win asked brightly, obviously trying to hide her fear that he couldn’t.

“If you wish me to do so”.

It wasn’t a promising answer, but it was something –

And it was this slight hope that made Win forget.

Still beaming, she reached out and drew him into her arms, or attempted to do so. “Oh Freddie, I am _so_ glad you are okay –“

He flinched out of her embrace, his face white, although out of shock or fury, Fred couldn’t tell. “I – I –“ he stammered, then cleared his throat, regaining his control over himself. “Please refrain from doing this in the future. And I really prefer to be called Morse. That’s my name.”

Win reacted better to being so chastised than Fred could have imagined she would. “I’M sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Morse. It’s just been so long…”

He looked at her, then nodded before bowing them goodbye.

As soon as the door closed behind him, “Joan burst out “That was bloody creepy!”

“Joan!” he barked.

“I’m sorry, but – I remember Freddie! And he was always laughing and making up games for us, not acting like he had no emotions whatsoever!”

Sam was looking at the door, frowning to himself.

Fred wondered what he thought of it all. After all, his older brother had always only existed in the stories they had told him.

“Well, he came” Win said firmly, “And he promised to come again.”

“Because you want it, Mum, not because –“

“Joanie” she said quietly, and she fell immediately silent when she saw the look on her face.

Fred understood only too well. When she looked determined, there was nothing and no one that could change her mind.

“Demons think differently than we do. He just has to get used to things, that is all. And then we can be a family again.”

It sounded so easy when she said it like that.

Wisely, Joan chose not to say anything.

* * *

That night – Mum had insisted they go to bed early, but there was no way any of them were getting enough sleep and they all knew it – Sam waited for Joan in the room that used to be his and Freddie’s when his older brother had still been around.

His bed was still there, and Joan had used that fact over the years to steal herself to the room and talk to him quietly in the dark.

She’d been the one – when he had been old enough to understand and Mum and Dad had already gently broken the news that they had originally had three of them to him – to tell him that things hadn’t been as easy Afterwards (that was how he had come to think about it eventually; the Before and the Afterwards) as their parents liked to pretend. One day, she’d surprised Dad in the garden just punching their house wall. And Mum had stolen away to cry in the kitchen for months after it had happened.

And so, he knew that she’d come to him tonight as well.

He didn’t know what to think. When he had imagined actually having his big brother in his life – especially during his teens, when it had felt like no one understood him – he had always (rather naively, as he well knew) had a clear picture in his mind of someone he could always confide in, who was always happy to see him and would defend him against anything that tried to harm him, emotionally or otherwise.

What he had got back – and he wasn’t entirely sure they even had go ten him back – was a seemingly emotionless mask, polite to a fault, who treated them like he would treat any other humans.

A demon. He supposed when he told his friends they’d all be thrilled. A demon for a brother. How exciting.

Until you looked into his face and where there should at least be an interest in what they had to say, they were staring at a blank wall.

The door opened. Joan came in and got into Freddie’s bed.

For a moment, they were silent.

Then, hating how childish he sounded, Sam said, “You always described him different.”

“He was.” She took a deep breath. “How many twelve-year-olds do you know who’d happily play with a four-year-old? And he always came up with the best games, too. He took me to the park when I asked and read to me. One of my earliest memories is actually hi botte-feeding you because Mum had a cold.”

“That doesn’t sounded like the man we met today” he said quietly.

“No it doesn’t” she admitted reluctantly, “But when he’s thinking he gets the same expression on his face Dad does.”

“Yeah, but nothing else. Seems to me like any member of our family should have something of a temper.”

“I suppose the train that out of you when you’re raised a demon.”

They fell silent once more as they thought about that.

Then, he suggested, “Means that it must still be in there somewhere, right? Mum seems to think so.”

“I’m not sure she does. Maybe she just wants to believe it.” Joan was quiet again before adding, “She was hit the hardest. I couldn’t quite understand what was going on, and Dad had work, but all she had to do was putter about the house and stare at Freddie’s things when she was done with the chores.”

One time, Joan had been missing him so much she’d insisted on sleeping with his teddy bear when Mum put her down for her nap. Her face as she had done so had ensured she never asked again.

She’d still cuddled it though, now and then, imagining childishly that Freddie could feel that she was thinking of him as she did so.

And of course Sam and her both knew of the room next to Joan’s, where Mum had eventually packed away everything but the bed that had stayed in their old room. It had never been locked; for a long while, Joan had believed that their parents simply never entered it, unlike her and Sam when they weren’t being watched, but then she’d had to go to the bathroom one night and had seen Dad come out of it, an expression she had never seen before or since on his face. She’d known then, that bother he and Mum preferred to remember Freddie by themselves.

They had probably believed it was better for her and Sam.

“Do you hank he liked having dinner with us?”

She bit her lip. “He didn’t have anything against it” was what she finally settled on. She suddenly had an idea. “I’ll go to the library on my lunch break tomorrow. Get some books about demons. Might make things easer.”

“You mean –“

“We have to understand how he works. The officer told Mum that he was a traditionally brought up demon; so we have to make sure we don’t do anything he would consider impolite or dishonourable something like it.”

“You’re probably right” he agreed. “Do you think there’s a way he’ll remember us? There was a thing in the newspaper the other day how they might when they get reunited with her birth families.”

Joan had read the piece too, but to her it had seemed little like speculation. Still, as long as it made Sammy feel better… “Could be. What do we know about magic?” She had always meant to learn more about it, but somewhere it had felt wrong to do so without Freddie being there so she could ask. The one thing she was sure of was that it was unpredictable, but everyone knew that.

And so she reached out; Sam met her hand halfway as he usually did. “We’ll see him right, Sam. You’ll see.” It was something that she wouldn’t have believed if Dad told her, but se needed to comfort him, the way Freddie would have comforted her after her nightmares when she had been a child.

When they had both been children together. How long ago it seemed now. In truth, she couldn’t quite reconcile the man with the boy she had known, and not just because if his upbringing and emotionless demeanour. No, she had somehow never expected him to grow up.

It was silly, but that was how it was.

And yet she could do little but hold onto Sam for now and pray that everything would turn out fine.

* * *

Win woke up the next morning and told herself firmly that their boy had come homes. Yes, he wasn’t quiet what she had imagined, but he was polite and an important officer of the Guard and he had promised to come over again.

She had to believe that, otherwise she would go mad.

She hesitated for a moment when she reached The Door, as it had slowly become known to her mind. Then she stepped in.

As she looked over Freddie’s things, she wondered what would happen if she showed them to him. Would eh react at all? Yesterday’s experience seemed to suggest that he wouldn’t. But then, maybe seeing his old toys… he had so loved that Teddy Bear…

She knew she should probably have the children let play with them, but she had never been able to do so. It wouldn’t have felt like they were inheriting his things, like Freddie was truly gone, and she wouldn’t have been able to bear that.

Well, maybe if they were lucky, she would one day watch his own children play with them…

It was a nice picture, and it brought a smile to her lips despite of the difficulties that lay ahead.

* * *

Fred was relieved to find Win up, making breakfast and humming to herself to the radio. Obviously yesterday’s dinner had left her in a better mood than him.

Part of that might have had to do with the differences in their temper. Fred had always been a hothead, had always shown his emotions openly in away that frankly hadn’t always served his best interests in the Force, and until he had been taken from them, it had appeared as if Freddie had inherited that trait, albeit somewhat tempered by Win’s gentle nature. Now he was as cool as a cucumber. He had barely even shown an interest in his siblings, and as far as Fred had understood, he’d had none in his adoptive family that could have replaced them.

Still, they were all holding up, and that was more than Fred could initially have hoped for.

Soon after breakfast, the doorbell rang out – Jakes picking him up as usual.

It was Win who opened it, still with a smile on her face.

* * *

 _Alright_ , Peter decided when he saw Mrs. Thursday’s radiant expression, _that’s a good sign._

Not that he wanted to speculate about his superior officer’s family life, but a distracted copper could very quickly end up a hurt copper, and he didn’t want that.

He waited whether Thursday would tell him something about dinner, but he spent the drive silent.

* * *

A room; an office. An orderly desk. Someone bending over a file.

Someone else entering.

If anyone had listened to a conversation that took place not too long ago in a car, they would have recognized the voices. “He’s left home. Going to the station, I take it.”

“Good. Excellent.”

Another pregnant pause.

“I know you’d like to –“

“Not now”. It ends the discussion effectively.

Then, steps towards the door.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know that.”

“I just wish…”

“We all do.”

* * *

Peter had to wait until lunch. There seemed to be something about pubs that loosened Thursday’s tongue; maybe it was just the atmosphere.

Pont was, he took a deep breath as he unpacked his sandwich. “Dinner went fine. At least Win seemed to think so. The children are confused, but that’s no surprise.”

He nodded.

“And he said he’d come by again. At least that’s something.”

Peter wasn’t entirely sure if this was Thursday trying to make the best out of the situation or an actual improvement. He had never had a family to speak of – what did he know about it all? “Seems like he’s at least interested in getting to know you again, sir” was what he eventually carefully settled on.

Thursday nodded tensely. “But then” he replied, “You never know with demons, do you.”

“They do usually mean what they say, sir. They firmly believe in honesty.”

“I noticed that” he said, sounding bitter. “Otherwise, he would have pretended that he cared.”

Peter didn’t know how to react, but the DI shook his head.

“Forget it, lad; I have no business dumping all of this on you.”

But he had desperately needed to do so, Peter knew that. There were some things he probably couldn’t share with his family, as he was busy holding up a strong front for them – the father, the protector, the One Who Would Fix this – and he needed to talk to someone.

The Old Man was decent enough. Peter didn’t mind listening to him. And he was well aware there was a kind of horrid fascination with it all, with what The Firm had been doing, one that had been beaten into him in his childhood, when they had whispered amongst themselves at night, because things might have been bad, but at least they weren’t one of them, they hadn’t been taken from their families because they had magic and been made to forget them.

He wouldn’t tell Thursday, of course.

But he could still listen. Maybe if he prompted him… “He’s a bit young for a Commander of the Guard, I think” he began. At least that was what had struck him at first – he looked even younger than Peter himself, and was already an important officer.

It had been the right thing to say; Thursday looked up and Peter was almost taken aback by the fierce pride in his eyes. “Yes. Told us he’d ben with them since he was twenty-two.”

Peter hummed. “They learn to fight too, don’t they?” He had only seen a demon fight once, for a few moments, from a distance, but it wasn’t a sight that was easy to forget.

Thursday blinked, obviously not having thought about it before. But of course; he was still searching for the twelve-year-old that had been taken from then, rather than the thirty-two-year od demon who had returned.

“Jus… you know, sir” he shrugged, “Must be an asset, working with the Guard and all.”

After all, demons didn’t fight the way humans did. They were fierce, and fast, and clinical about it.

Watching the one he’d seen had been exhilarating as well as frightening.

He wondered what it meant to fight like this with a temper like Thursday’s, but then realized they would have taught him not to attack with anger.

“I suppose so” Thursday said courtly.

And just like that this conversation, too, was at an end.

* * *

Joan had meant what she’d told Sam, and so she went to the library the very next day. The librarian was very helpful and quickly directed her towards the demonic section– even though she seemed to think that she had a crush on a demon and was trying to understand them because of that. But she was used to that kind of thing.

And so, she did her research.

In a way, it was a relief to find that demons did indeed immediately take care of those they chose to love and accept into their lives and homes. At least Freddie had had someone to look after him, to love him, instead of being trained by the Firm to find and take away other children who had magic.

On the other hand, it made things rather difficult… He was a demon now in all but name – or rather, he was a demon in name, for it soon became clear that their traditional names meant a lot to them. _Endeavour_. It was a promise as much as a calling.

Endeavour. In a way, it suited him. She didn’t think she’d seen a more dedicated man before.

If only she hadn’t had twenty years practice of thin king of him as Freddie.

But if this was what was needed to properly bring her brother home again, it was what she would do.

And so, the next time Mum had success in inviting him to dinner, it was Joan who contrived to open the door for him. Once she had, she moved back a little and said, with a small curtsey, “Hello, Morse”. (At least the dancing lessons were finally paying off; she had read that there were some differences between great and small curtseys but hoped that they were by now familiar enough that at least this was acceptable).

He hesitated for a moment – she liked to think she had surprised him – and then made a bow. “Hello.”

No Miss Thursday.

She wanted to beam, but was content with a simple smile as he walked in. “Have you had a successful day?”

“I fulfilled my duties.”

Formulas, vague answers; Normally she didn’t like them, but if it brought them closer she would learn all there was to it.

Maybe because of that (it might have been a bit conceited, but she couldn’t care less) he finally properly mentioned magic at the table. It seemed there had been an indecent the Guard had had to deal with.

“Are there many magic users who use their powers against others?” she asked before she could help herself.

The hat stand rule had been abandoned long ago, since it was an event when Freddie opened his mouth at all and not even Dad had the heart to shush him, then.

“No, not really. Most know how to behave, but there are a few bad apples everywhere, if you will forgive the colloquialism”.

Dad’s face very much suggested that he knew where the bad apples were zo be found, but then, they were all bound to think it.

“Are there like spells that can hurt people?” Sam asked.

“Why” he deadpanned, “Is there anyone you have a grudge on?”

It was the closest thing he’d ever made to a joke and Joan couldn’t help but look surprised. Her family seemed to agree; they were _all_ staring at him.

Immediately his face became a blank mask again. “What I mean to say is… Every magic user has their own tricks. In case you ever feel unsafe, leave.”

It was a good an explanation as they were ever likely to get.

But her brother had made a joke.

She clung to that.

* * *

It might have been better, Peter would later think, if they’d had time to settle down, if things had gone more slowly. If they had had time to adjust, if Commander Morse had been able to get used to human customs at least enough to feel comfortable before his father.

But of bloody course this wasn’t how it happened.

He didn’t quite know what progress the Old Man and his family had made in the past two weeks. Now and then he would mention that his son had called – once or twice he had dined with them as well – but there seemed to be little to suggest that he was mellowing towards them in any way.

Still, it had only been a short time. Maybe eventually…

He’d not returned to the station however, putting down any tentative hopes Peter rather suspected the DI had had of him showing zip to have lunch with him.

And so, when Peter raised his head and found the Commander being escorted by Strange, his heart sank. He already felt that this wasn’t good news.

“Sergeant Jakes, I presume? DI Thursday’s bagman?”

He nodded.

“Excellent. You should accompany me then; we and the Inspector need to speak to Superintendent Bright.”

“What’s the matter?” he asked, getting up.

“There is a case.”

He should probably have expected a reaction like this, if he was being honest.

* * *

Fred was trying to go through the reports, although his thoughts were occupied in a different matter, as usual these days.

Freddie had shown no sign of growing closer to or warmer towards all of them, despite Joan’s and Sam’s continued attempt to draw him out. Not to mention Win trying to fuss over him although he kept insisting she didn’t have to. When she’d asked if she could come over to his place (no doubt intending to see if there was enough food in the fridge) he’d actually asked for a reason.

Stoll, they wouldn’t give up. They couldn’t.

Somoni came to his door; he recognized Jakes’ usual knock and bade him enter.

The last thing he had expected was to find their oldest accompanying him. “Good day, Inspector.”

“Hello… Morse.” And of course he stood to attention again. Fred suppressed a sigh. “How can I –“

“I apologise very much for the interruption, but time is not our side. We need to speak to your superintendent as soon as possible.”

Fred glanced at Jakes, but he obviously had no idea what was going on either. “If you think it’s important…” he said haltingly.

“It is.” There was no question whether he was right or wrong, Fred realized; he simply knew it was important, in the way all of them did.

Alright, then. “Let’s go see Mr. Bright, then.”

* * *

He had not yet appraised Superintendent Bright of what had happened. Somehow, it would have seemed wrong to brief him about Freddie, as if he was a case to be solved instead of their boy.

He wondered if that was a mistake as he knocked.

He decided it was when, after the necessary indications, Freddie, wit the frankness of all demons, said, “I think you should know that I am Inspector Thursday’s biological son, Superintendent. I was extracted from the family when I was twelve and adopted by a demonic one.”

At least he’d said _the_ and not _their_ , Fred thought as he turned to huis superior officer, only to see something In his face that he’d hoped he would never encounter again.

People didn’t speak of the children that had been taken away. It was a rule, an unspoken law, the one thing that kept the parents sane.

But when you had lost a child and you met someone else who had, after The Firm had taken them away, and they weren’t on their guard… you knew. You could always tell. There was a shared feeling, a consciousness…

And right now, Fred too was looking at a father who had lost their child, and it didn’t seem like there was a chance of a happy ending like there had in a way been for them.

Freddie cleared his throat. “Anyway, there is a case.”

Maybe his detached attitude was actually a good thing for once, since Superintendent Bright used the interval to calm himself. “Is that so?”

“Yes; now, considering this concerns the Firm, in the old days, the Firm itself would have handled it, just like they took care of any magical cases involving non-magical humans for years. That duty falls to the Guard now, of course. My point is, there have been several attacks on leading figures of The Firm in the last week. Two of them ended deadly.”

Fred was rather proud of himself that he reacted neither with a satisfied noise nor something like _Oh, no,_ or, _About bloody time_ , or _Where can I join_. He was rather sure that Superintendent Bright was feeling the same, and that Jakes was aware of it.

“You see, the pact they made with the government grants them immunity. And that immunity has constantly been tried to breach” Freddie continued. “It would be terribly callous to let all of this slide because of some ill feelings towards the –“

“Ill feelings!?” Now Fred couldn’t help himself.

He took a deep breath. “I am sorry. I misspoke. It is, of course, entirely understandable that there should be resentment, even hatred, towards the Firm.”

It was the first time he had acknowledged that what they had done to countless families was cruel and terrible, and Fred couldn’t help but take some hope from that.

“I didn’t mean –“ he turned to Superintendent Bright.

“Only too understandable, Inspector.” He put out his cigarette. “However, Commander Morse” (Fred wondered if it would ever stop hurting to hear Freddie called such) “You have to understand that for many, it will not be easy to put aside their personal feelings…”

“Of course, Superintendent. That’s why I suggest the Guard itself handle the contact with the Firm.”

Something ugly and terrifying reared in Fred’s breast. “You’re not going there. You are not talking to them. You’re _not_.”

His son was never doing so again, he was never –

He felt more than saw Jakes step up to him in alarm.

“But if it’s necessary to –“ Freddie wisely stopped talking when he saw his face. “Right. In that case, I will request the assistance of Officer Trewlove.”

Superintendent Bright nodded. “I’ve met her.”

Fred had been right, then.

“If that’s alright with you, Inspector” he turned to him.

Fred nodded; it was as good a concession as he was going to get, and he knew it.

“Now, Inspector, may I have a word?” Superintendent Bright asked.

Freddie, still standing up as straight as always, looked at Jakes then said, “In that case, we’ll wait for you in your office, Inspector.”

He nodded again.

They left the room and Bright got up, walking to the window.

Then, quietly, he said, “I know this isn’t easy, Fred.” He’d rarely called him by his first name before. “But… at least your boy is alive. You were lucky.”

The only thing he could say was “I’m sorry.”

Superintendent Bright still wasn’t looking art him. “Officer Trewlove is a very nice and well-trained officer, but some blows cannot be softened. We knew there was every probability, of course… She was older than your boy when she died a year ago.”

He finally turned to face him. “Don’t give up. You’ve been given an incredible chance to get to know the man he is today.”

He nodded.

“Well then, keep my appraised.”

“Sir.” With that, he left.

* * *

That had been close. Dear God, Peter had thought the Old Man was about to have an aneurism when his son had so casually suggested he’d talk to those who had taken him away from his family.

“I do think I upset the Inspector with my suggestion” the bloody robot next to him began talking, “I will be more casefile in the future.”

“I think he had a right to be upset” he said, feeling the need to defend the inspector, even if he was talking to his own bloody son. God knew he wasn’t acting like it.

“I really should have considered that” he conceded then added, “Most of us don’t think much of The Procedure. It’s better that way. Otherwise we would probably be too upset to do our jobs.”

Peter almost laughed; the thought of Morse being upset seemed ridiculous, really, but then, what did he know? He didn’t have to live with the fact that he was taken from a loving family and now had to somehow make sense of it all.

“So… The Firm is being attacked.”

“Its members. Yes.”

“I have the feeling the list of suspects will be rather long.”

“There are many who bear the agents ill will, that’s true.”

“What about you?” Peter asked; he couldn’t help himself. Even if he didn’t remember thanks to The Procedure, a part of Morse must surely have been slightly resentful at the very least –

He shrugged. “If I hadn’t been extracted, I wouldn’t be able to fulfil my duties in the Guard now.”

That was all he had to say? His duties? Peter tried again, if only out of sense of loyalty to the Old Man. “But wouldn’t you like to get your memories back?” He had been twelve, rather older than most children when they were taken. The Thursdays had managed to hide his magical abilities for quite some time.

“It would be interesting and try and reconcile my demonic with my human upbringing” he said flatly. Peter tried to take what encouragement he could from that, but it was so little – so very little – that he could only move on from the subject.

“Well then, where do we start?” he asked.

“We decided to involve Cowley police to show there is no bad blood between the public and The Firm after the Agreement” he evenly replied – good luck with that, Peter thought. “I will of course have the Guard at my disposal – my superior officers have handed over the case to me officially, and I can choose my co-workers – and Shirley Trewlove will be handling the contact with the Firm.”

It really was a good idea not to let him or the Old Man anywhere near that. Peter wasn’t sure he would be able to hold him back.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Let’s just wait for DI Thursday and then tell your colleagues” Morse suggested and he found it easiest to comply.

* * *

Fred walked back to the squad room slowly. He had never known that he was working with and under a man who had suffered the same as his family had, and who had hidden his own personal grief for at least this past few weeks.

Superintendent Bright was right, of course. Freddie was alive, and as long as he was alive, there was a chance that he would remember, that they could get past their differences, even that he would remember. He had to think of that, of Win’s delight at having their oldest back, at Joan’s and Sam’s honest open curiosity about their brother.

And he had to work the case even though he’d rather have shook hands with whoever was behind the attacks.

When he entered the squad room, a small group of officers, among them Strange and surprisingly Doctor DeBryn, had gathered around Jakes and were most likely bombarding him with questions; Freddie was on the phone, speaking quickly and urgently.

As he put the receiver down, an expression of annoyance and worry crossed his face for a second. While part of him was relieved he could still feel this way, it immediately put him on his guard, and so he walked up to him. Everyone fell silent as he asked, “What is it, s- Morse?”

He took a deep breath, returning to the even, straight stance he usually showed when talking to him. His time however, the politeness that had been drilled into him worked against him. “Inspector, I only think it prudent to tell you that –“

In that moment, the door was thrown open and part of Fred as he turned around registered Shirley Trewlove’s voice. “This really is not a good idea, Mr. Lee – “

But another, bigger part of him wasn’t listening because he wasn’t in the squad room anymore.

No, he was standing in front of his house, struggling against the two men holding him back while his little boy was shouting “Mum, Dad, help, don’t let him take me away, Help, Mum –“ and this man, this man who had just entered his life again after twenty years was dragging Freddie away from them –

He couldn’t remember moving. He couldn’t remember making any conscious decisions.

The next thing he knew, he was being held back once more, but this time by Jakes and Strange and even DeBryn. “Inspector” the last one panted “I understand but we can’t allow you to –“

The man’s – Lee, finally he had a name to put to the monster who had ripped their child out of his begging wife’s arms – had a bloody nose. Fred hoped that he had broken it. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten a few kicks in as well, but a slight throbbing in his foot and his posture seemed to suggest it.

And then, to his horror, Freddie leaned down to speak to him. “Mr. Lee, may I suggest that this was a rather ill-advised idea?”

“He wouldn’t*t listen to me” Shirley Trewlove sighed. “I told him, I –“

“Stop talking to him” Fred barked, managing to shake Strange off, “Freddie, get away from him –“

“Inspector, it’s hardly –“

“I said, get away from him”.

“Sorry, Morse” Jakes heaved, still somehow clinging onto Fred, “But I don’t think he’ll listen to reason on this one.”

Something flashed in Freddie’s eyes for a moment, then he calmed again. “Fine. Officer Trewlove, would you please bring Mr. Lee to the interrogation room? I am sure Sergeant Strange will be glad to help you. And – you are a doctor, correct?”

“Yes. Doctor DeBryn.”

He nodded. “Please take a look at him.”

“Of course” he agreed with reluctance in his voice.

“What is going on here?” Superintendent Bright’s voice rang out as he stood in the doorway and took the scene in.-

“I am afraid an explanation is necessary” Freddie observed quietly.

* * *

They’d sent him away like a disobedient child, and so Fred was having tea ion Superintendent’s Bright’s office.

“Good God, Thursday”. He took a drag off his cigarette. “I am not saying I don’t understand – I do. And many would feel the same, I dare say – but The Firm is still powerful. This was dangerous.”

“I know, sir.” He definitely hadn’t been thinking straight, but how could he have been? This was – this was – he took a deep breath and thought of Freddie. Demons thought a lot of keeping their calm; he wouldn’t be doing himself any favours if he continued like this. “I will try and do better.”

“Good, good. With this, I am rather sure that’s all I can ask for”.

If he hadn’t already ruined everything.

* * *

As he returned, Freddie came to talk to him. “Can I talk to you in your office?”

It was the first time he had ever requested being alone with him, and it would have given Fred hope if he hadn’t known exactly what this was about.

“Officer Trewlove has already been told by Mr. Lee that he doesn’t wish to discuss this matter further” he told him as soon as he’d closed the door behind him.

He nodded since he didn’t know what would happen if he tried to speak.

“Look, I know this isn’t easy. It was very unwise of Mr. Lee to come when he had to know – but the thing is –“ his expression spoke of a struggle, and Fred was wondering if he was in any pain when he actually sat down in front of his desk and looked him straight in the eyes. “Father” he forced out. “You might not want to hear this, but Mr. Lee was kind to me in his own way after The Procedure. He allowed me to be adopted, and they were good people. Please.”

It was something to be called _Father_ , although he was mostly doing so in order for him to pay attention. Still; if Freddie could make the effort, so could he. “I’ll do my best” he promised.

He nodded, and Fred expected everything to go awkward again; for the mask to come back up, for his son to pretend the last minute had not happened, but instead he continued, “I am aware – I can imagine what you must feel but – but –“ and very deliberately he reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

Knowing how much this meant, Fred could only stare at him.

“These years… they haven’t been bad ones, for me. Yes, it was scary to wake up in a strange place with no idea why I was there or who I was, but like I said, Mama and Papa did everything they could to raise me right.”

For the first time, something like true understanding of demons came to Fred, and he realized he was being told that they had done everything to ensure he grew up feeling loved. Deciding to answer in a way that he would get, he said, “I am certain it was an honour to them to watch you grow up.”

The lad was utterly surprised, then apparently chose to cut their conversation short. “Thank you” he stood up, obviously relieved. “I will let Mr. Bright know.”

Fred watched him leave; a few minutes ago, he had been wondering how he could possibly keep calm around all the mayhem. Now that his son had willingly touched him for the first time in twenty years, he felt capable of anything.

* * *

Two voices one would have recognized, now. Hushed, as if they had little time.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes. You know what I have to do. I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots earlier.”

“Yes. Don’t worry. I am sure you will be fine.”

“Thank you.”

There was affection there, too, but you wouldn’t have known; everything was rather rushed.

* * *

Fred thought it prudent to stay in his office until he knew Lee had left the building. Next time – if there was a next time – hue would hopefully be prepared better.

It was Trewlove who came to get him, having already carefully typed out the interview. Fred thought she’d probably decided that they could use all the extra time to calm down.

* * *

Peter was troubled. Trewlove had just gone to find the Old Man, but that wasn’t the problem, since Lee was safely away.

No; Superintendent Bright and Morse had entered the room at the same time, but there had been something strange about them. Something in their expressions… it was as if they were trying to hide strong emotions, which made little sense since Morse had been trained not to do so and they hadn’t known each other before today.

However, he was soon distracted by the Old Man entering and looking calmer than he could have hoped for. Whatever Morse had told him when they’d been alone must have been effective. Thank God.

“Alright, so we should…” Morse began, then looked at the boxes of evidence that had arrived with Lee and frowned. “It is a rather fickle use of it, but since time is of the essence…” he mumbled a few words and gestures with his hands; a moment later, the evidence was on the blackboard.

That was practical, at least.

* * *

Fred swallowed. It was the first time he had seen him perform magic since he had re-entered their lives. Even when he had been a child, he’d rarely done it, mostly because they had been careful to raise him with the knowledge that, if someone figured out he had it, bad things would happen… and they _had_.

So to now see him do so casually…

“Alright, Superintendent, Inspector… if you’ve nothing to say, I would suggest that Officer Trewlove brief us all.”

Fred blinked. Had he imagined – ne he hadn’t. There had been an underlying fondness when he had addressed Fred, and something almost, if not quite, like a smile when he had done so.

It might have been strange to think this must have to do with what he’d done to Lee, but it made sense. There must have been some resentment in his son’s mind; even if Lee had been kind to him, there _must_ have been.

“This is what we know so far” Officer Trewlove began. “Three high-ranking Firm members have been victims of attacks; two of them are dead, Mr. Lee escaped.”

What a shame, Fred thought before he could stop himself. His son seemed to have guessed his, since he shot him a look that, for the demon he had come to know, he almost considered mischievous.

It foiled him with further hope and made it difficult to pay attention.

“Mr. Harper and Mr. Brown were both found with their throat cuts from behind. Mr. Lee survived with a small wound because he heard his assailant come up to him, according to his statement, but sadly didn’t get a good look at them.”

Probably always on his guard, ever since they struck the deal. And really, who wouldn’t want to get rid off them? Even people who had never been harmed by the Firm’s actions rarely, if ever, expressed support from them.

“Evidence at the scene?” he asked.

Their boy stepped up to the board. “Sadly there is very little to go on. Murderers, I am afraid, don’t tend to leave calling cards.”

Was he trying to make a joke?

“And there seems trio have been no open threats expressed towards any of them.”

“Maybe not open ones” Strange mumbled. Fred could only agree. The Agreement between the Firm, and the Government had been considered a necessary evil at best by the population at large and a travesty by those still grieving at worst. He didn’t know how the majority of his colleagues felt about it - had never asked for a very specific reason – but couldn’t help but feel that the hostility in Strange’s voice was rather commonplace.

“You are right Sergeant, of course. There are many who bear a grudge towards the Firm, and with rather solid reasons.”

Fred was surprised; it was the first time he had expressed open hostility towards the people who had taken him from them, or at least something like it. Maybe all of this was even more complicated than he had thought. What had Bright told him? _Get to know the man he is today._

And that man was currently busy working the case, like Fred himself would have done if he hadn’t been distracted by the past.

Maybe, he realised with equal amounts of pain and a strange pleasure, it was time to let go of Freddie. Try as they might, they could never get that boy back; but this man – the man who showed little signs of amusement at him having hit Lee, who was clever and polite to a fault and still came around to their house despite apparently not caring about it the first time he did so… he was worth getting to know alright.

Maybe he’d gone at this through a completely wrong angle from the beginning.

And perhaps he was now jumping to conclusions simply because they finally seemed to have found some rapport.

Either way, he chose to believe it was progress.

Even if the thought of having to let Freddie go after all these years – it bloody hurt, like it always had and always would. But some things couldn’t be unmade. Their son had been taken from them, and – _Endeavour_ Morse had returned.

And that was just the challenge; wasn’t it. To acknowledge Commander Morse doing his job while still finding traces of their son in there and reconciling the two to get to know their child all over again.

It was as if seeing Lee again had opened the flood gates, and now Fred could barely pay attention to the case, although he did his best to force himself to.

“Whoever it was” Jakes was just saying, “They would have to be rather stealthy, wouldn’t they. With everyone the Firm being trained the way they are…” he trailed off.

“Yes, indeed, Sergeant” Fr – _Endeavour_ , he chastised himself, _think of him as Endeavour_ – answered calmly. “The Firm has always been very careful when training its agents.”

 _Did they try, son, and fail, or did they know from the first that you were too powerful and send you anyway?_ The question seemed more important than it perhaps was.

God, he needed a smoke and a cup of tea.

“Didn’t succeed with you, Commander, then?” Sometimes, Fred considered Strange’s frankness an asset; right now he wasn’t so sure.

And yet, in the next moment he would have been ready to bless the man, because Endeavour laughed for the first time since he had entered his home again. “You can say that again. My magic went rampant after the Procedure; they considered it an unconscious reaction to a strange environment. It needed all my demonic training to get it back under control.”

Maybe that was how the Firm had found out; maybe he’d not always had such a firm grasp on his abilities as they had allowed himself to believe. God, please let it not have been mistakes on their part. Anything but that.

“Anyway, the most logical thing would be going through the files the Firm has kept on the children they took” he continued evenly, “After all, there must be many parents out there who still hold a grudge.”

This time, it was Superintendent Bright who made a noise, not Fred; and to his infinite surprise, it was Endeavour who first glanced at him, first made sure he was alright, as if there was an understanding between them. But they had only just met…

“Me and Officer Trewlove will get the files. There are too many to just magic them around.”

When Fred tried to object – albeit calmly – he said, “The files are kept oi the Guard House as part of the Agreement…” before trailing off.

Him not calling him Inspector anymore was enough to let them go.

* * *

“I was foolish today.”

“You weren’t, anyone would have –“

“But I shouldn’t. You know I shouldn’t have.”

“Then I shouldn’t have let you. Let’s concentrate on the here and now.”

* * *

While they were gone, Fred studied the black board. Bright had excused himself, still looking rather unlike himself, and he made a mental note to make sure he was dealing with everything that had happened.

Not much to go on, really. Just the bodies. And the act that no one had liked the victims.

But he had served more difficult cases before.

The problem was that he didn’t exactly want to arrest anyone. He’d rather have shaken their hand.

He shook himself. Fr – _Endeavour_ wouldn’t think or act like that, and if he wanted to get to know the man he was now, the man who had ignored all his training to comfort him when he didn’t have to, he would have to try.

They returned soon enough with…

To be perfectly honest, with too many files.

Not because Fred dreaded the prospect of going through them, or of talking to the families – they might be in pain, but it was a familiar pain, like the one he now knew he shared with Mr. Bright – but because it proved that far more children had been taken than the public had been led to believe.

Seeing his expression, F – Endeavour said, “These are the files of the last twenty years. We considered it far more likely that the extraction wasn’t that long ago.”

Twenty years? Not long ago? But in a way, Fred had to agreed – there were moments were it seemed that their son had been ripped from them mere seconds ago, instead of growing into the young man who was standing in front of him.

* * *

They decided to split the files evenly between them, and soon, Fred was flipping through them. There really wasn’t much to go on – just facts; children that had been taken, when they had been taken, a few details about their families, and whether or not they had stayed at the Firm. That was it. All these lives, and that was all they had recorded.

Except for the informants who had let them know about the children’s magical abilities, and that was not something Fred liked to dwell on.

It was a terrible coincidence that, about an hour in, he stumbled across a file bearing the name –

_Thursday, Fred Jr._

He stared at the name for longer than he cared to admit, then flipped it open.

The sight of his twelve-year-old son’s picture, looking so frightened and lost as he stared into the camera like he had been told to, was almost too much to bear.

Father: Fred Thursday, Sr.

Mother: Winnifred Thursday.

Siblings: Joan Thursday, 4; Sam Thursday, 2; no apparent magical abilities.

Considered potentially dangerous to the Firm. Placed in the adoption program. Subsequently adopted by Cyril and Constance Morse.

Again, that was all.

Except for one thing.

Informant: Anonymous.

He only realized how worried he had been all these years that it had been his own brother who had called in to have his nephew taken away when he was given the possibility to believe that this hadn’t been the case.

God, this was a bloody mess.

Fred flipped back to the picture, gently touching it.

How they had all loved their sunshine of an oldest.

And he could and _would_ love the young man who had returned to them. Yes, he might have been a bit strange for humans, but that didn’t matter one bit. So he had a different name. So he had weird customs. So he didn’t want to be touched. Fred didn’t care.

On an impulse, he put the file in his briefcase. They hadn’t done anything to the employees in the Firm, and the thought of the picture ending up on the black board was too much to bear.

He moved on.

* * *

Whispers, now, as if someone was trying not to be heard by others nearby.

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought I’d marked the file carefully…”

“There’s nothing in there that gives anything away. Don’t worry.”

* * *

Dear God. Peter had known that this would be bad, but he hadn’t imagined this mass of files. And if this were only the last twenty years... how many more had been kidnapped, for that was what it was, he wouldn’t hear anything else…

All these children, and so many with death certificates in their files, speaking of a depressingly short life, having “fallen” for the “greater good” apparently because the Firm extracted them but only ever gave them the most rudimentary teachings on how to control their powers since there was obviously enough of a supply, should something go wrong, or because they had burned up.

Peter was considering it more and more of a miracle that the Commander had survived long enough to be reunited with the Thursdays.

“How are we supposed to figure out which ones are more likely to have done this?” Strange voiced his own thoughts. “Seems to me like there’s a motive in every single file.”

“That’s where Officer Trewlove comes in” Morse responded, gesturing towards her in a surprisingly lively manner while perusing a file. When he looked up, however he wore his usual calm expression. “She has been coordinating information that hes been making its way into the public these past few weeks. And it stands to reason that whoever is behind this recently learned something they feared to hear; and that now they are out for revenge.”

Thinking of the Old Man, who he and Strange together had barely managed to hold back, Peter had to admit it was a more than probable theory.

“So…”

“Here is the list” Trewlove said helpfully, fishing it out of her bag. “Most of these I contacted myself, so I can give you a picture of how they reacted. Not everyone was as calm as Commander Morse’s family or…” she trailed off. “That’s beside the point, really. But I think I can narrow down the pool of subjects.”

“Excellent” Morse said calmly just as the Old Man stepped out of his office, looking rather like a haunted man; and it was small wonder. If not for the sake of God, he would have found another note _deceased_ next to his son’s name. “Inspector? We have a plan…”

* * *

The call came in about an hour later. Pitzer was the one to take it.

“Sergeant Jakes –“

“Sergeant, it seems that I have received a letter threatening my life.”

He needed a moment to recognize the voice. “You have, Mr. Lee?” Part of him, who thought of that haunted look in Inspector Thursday’s eyes as he had told him of their lost son, was tempted to tell him to keep it and see what happened, but this wasn’t his call to make; it was his duty to protect the citizens of Oxford, whether he wanted to or not. “We’ll be right over.”

“I am at my office in the Firm.”

Of course he was. There were those who said that they never really went home, that they didn’t have a home to go to. Peter had always considered that idiotic, but ever since he had seen Lee’s cold eyes, he wasn’t so sure.

To his pleasant surprise (he couldn’t help it; the Old Man was a legend at the station for a reason, and he had grown rather fond of him even though he hadn’t been his bagman for long) he found him conversing about the case with his son in his office, and the talk seemed to be amicable at least, even if they sounded just like colleagues. But it was something.

When he told them about the letter, Morse glanced at DI Thursday. “I am sorry, In – I am sorry…” a struggle, a swallow, a frown – “Father, but I think we really need to speak to Mr. Lee.”

His shoulders slumped even as there was something like joy in his face at being addressed like that (and Peter had the sudden and unwelcome suspicion that Morse had used it to manipulate him into complying rather because he felt a stronger connection to him). “You are right” he conceded. “But I am coming with you.”

“Please refrain from punching anyone” he said, but whether it was a joke or spoken in earnest, Peter couldn’t say.

* * *

He had immediately offered to drive them, thinking that if anything happened, it would be better for two of them to be there to restrain the DI, and Morse at least seemed to understand his motives, for he had given him a look he would have almost called thankful and which made Peter think that there might be hope after all.

He, like most citizens, had never entered the Firm’s building before. It sat in the middle of the town, a large, ugly, foreboding black structure that reminded everyone of the tight grip the Firm had on their lives; just a chance of a child being born with magic and invariably being taken away.

“Do you remember…” he trailed off when he realized the question was rather insensitive at best and downright insulting at worst.

“Oh yes. I woke up here after the Procedure, and of course stayed in a dorm with other children during the evaluation process” he said flatly – a little too flatly. He couldn’t be that cold about it. No one cold be, training be damned, if you asked Peter. There had to be something.

They entered; it was Morse who went to talk to the receptionist – a good thing, since the Old Man looked rather ill (and who wouldn’t have been; this was the building were the decision to steal his son had been made). “Excuse me, Commander Morse of the Guard, DI Thursday and Sergeant Jakes from Cowley Police. We are expected by Mr. Lee.”

She nodded and called up.

“Miss Tremaine is another one of the extracted children” he explained as they walked up the stairs. “I’ve known her since I woke up. She was one of the girls who are chosen to stay in the dorms for a couple of months, to make it easier for the younger ones.”

 _Mother figure_ , Peter thought, feeling uncomfortable. _Giving them a mother figure so they won’t cry._ It seemed so calculated, so callous.

Mr. Lee called for them to enter as soon as they knocked.

“Ah, Commander Morse. Inspector, Sergeant” he said, the blue eye the Old Man had given him making Peter feel rather satisfied, and if you went by Thursday’s expression, he was feeling the same.

If he guessed their thoughts, however, he didn’t let anything on, but asked them to sit. Morse of course preferred to remain standing, although he thankfully didn’t stand to attention. If he’d done that for Lee, Peter would probably have not have saved him from being killed by the Old Man’s bare hands.

“Here is it. It was in my mail this morning; I fear the envelope will be rather useless, seeing as so many people have handled it…”

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll take it with regardless” Morse said simply. “May we read it, Mr. Lee?”

“Of course.”

It was short and to the point.

_You took him from us. You will pay like the others._

“I assume you don’t know which specific child this is about?” Morse asked.

“No. There have been several parents who objected over the years, but that is a natural reaction…” Lee wisely stopped describing it when he saw Thursday’s face.

Even so, it probably wouldn’t have helped if Morse hadn’t reached out and touched his forearm, just the slightest of touches, just for a moment.

Peter knew this was a huge for him, and it recalled the Old Man to himself before they had a repeat of what had taken place earlier.

“Quite understandable” Morse instead agreed.

“I know you have the files… I would advise you to go for the parents of the elder children first. The older the child, the more time to get attached before they get taken away. That’s why we prefer to extract them when young.”

Dear God, how could he talk like this? Thank God for that touch; Thursday seemed still to take comfort from it. He even managed to reply, although he sounded like he meant to insult Lee. 

“If you say so”.

“I went through our copies of the files and wrote down a few names… If memory serves correctly, these were the more… unpleasant extractions. Although I have decided to discount a… certain one.”

It took Peter a moment to understand that he meant Morse’s. And, dear God, he was actually smiling. “And what do you mean by unpleasant?” he hastened to say.

“I mean that those families were more upset than usual, or had a more brutal reaction. That is all.”

Peter found himself wondering whether Lee himself had ever truly been one of those children, and if he had, if he ever thought of the fact. Had he ever really wondered about his family? Had he ever had any regrets at what he had been doing to others for years now? He and Morse seemed to get on quite well; but what was their relationship like anyway? Had they any relationship to begin with?

“Thank you very much for your help, Mr. Lee. Would you like police protection?”

Not that that would help any. Peter was rather sure that if they would ask any of their colleagues to protect him, the possibilities could go from them turning a blind eye to actively helping any attacker who might pop up.

“Thank you but we know how to look after ourselves.”

“The fact that two of your colleagues are dead would suggest the opposite” Morse said matter-factly, and something flickered across Lee’s face. Probably because he had sounded as close to sarcastic as Peter had ever heard him.

Thursday turned his face away, and Peter understood that he didn’t want anyone to see his smile.

“My colleagues weren’t exactly… the brightest of the bunch” he said simply. “I am much better trained than they ever were.”

“Undoubtedly so, Mr. Lee”.

His politeness was starting to put Mr. Lee out, and quite frankly, Peter was perhaps enjoying it a bit too much. _Did you ever imagine it would end like this? Did you ever think you would sit across from one of the children you stole who not only found his family again but is now a officer of The Guards and a very good one at that? No you didn’t. You thought that things would just go on indefinitely. That the Firm would be this powerful forever. You thought wrong._

He knew he had to get himself under control. He wasn’t part of the Old Man’s family, for God’s sake; he had never even had one himself.

Maybe that was the problem.

* * *

 _That’s right son,_ Fred thought proudly. There had been a point when he had been close to losing it once more and finish what he had started at the station; but – but – Endeavour had touched him again, just like that, of his own free will.

It was so much more progress than they had made in the last few weeks, and it was something to watch Lee squirm. _Yes. Look at what you have wrought you cockroach._ He wished Win could have been there to see it.

When he caught his eyes, he did his best not to smile, but was eventually forced to look away. to watch Lee like this did wonders for his soul.

And so silently took the envelope and told Lee they would get in touch.

Unless whoever was after him got to him first. Not that he would mind.

“Someone definitely does have it out for the Firm” Jakes said as they walked back to the car.

“It wold appear that way, Sergeant” Endeavour said ad Fred frowned. He was walking a few feet apart from them, physically distancing himself.

Maybe being back at the Firm’s headquarters had been more unsettling to him than Fred had thought. Maybe his entire demeanour was a front, in a way; a way to protect himself. He sighed. If only he could understand him.

But he had touched him, not once, but twice; and he had called him father. He couldn’t wait to see Win’s face when he told her. Maybe he would eventually call her Mum again, too.

It was almost too wonderful a prospect, and it led to him having a spring in his step even though they were just leaving the Firm.

And maybe, if some vindictive part of him was feeling good as well because Lee was scared, and he was worried, and he didn’t know what to do.

Just like he had made them feel that day when he took Endeavour from them.

* * *

Perhaps Peter should have been worried that the Old Man was gloating; but he couldn’t help but feel that he had somehow deserved after twenty long years of never knowing what happened to his son.

Said son looked rather downtrodden though, or at least as downtrodden as he had seen him so far, although it was difficult to tell with him still very much acting like a demon.

And then things happened suddenly and in quick succession.

One moment, they were walking to the car; in the next, Morse had shoved Thursday on top of Peter, resulting in them very neatly rolling around the floor, as it turned out away from harm’s way, while he had calmly and efficiently caught a knife that had obviously been thrown at them with his left hand.

It was a vicious knife, and it looked like it.

“What…” Peter managed while Thursday jumped up.

Morse tried to hold him down. “Not yet; there could be more.”

“But –“

“We need to get in the car.”

And they moved.

“What was that=” Peter gasped as soon as they were safely driving away, Morse at the wheel.

“An assassination attempt” he said as calmly as always. “And a very dishonourable one at that. I wasn’t being charged or officially challenged. It was a coward who targeted us.”

Dishonourable? That was one way to put it. “How did you –“

“My training.” _Easy as that. No problem, just caught a knife out of the air. My adoptive parents taught me. Anyway, anyone up for tea?_

Dear Lord.

Thinking over it, he realized that even throwing them on top of each other had been a calculated move on Morse’s part; it meant that they had been a more difficult target to hit at a fatal spot.

“But why would –“

“There are many reasons to go after a member of the Guard” he replied simply. “And throwing knives like this is the traditional weapon of choice for many magical creatures.”

“So you’ve dealt with that before`”

He gave him a glance that clearly said _But of course. What did you expect?_

“Often?” It was the Old Man who asked the question this time, staring at the back of his son’s head.

“Not that often… not with knives.”

Would it kill him to simply sound like he was worried now and then? The way he talked, only his quick reflexes had saved them from further attacks.

His voice didn’t falter, his hands didn’t shake, he apparently had no trouble driving.

This was the demon upbringing at work again, and Peter couldn’t say entirely if he approved.

But at least they were still alive.

“I’ll drop you off at the station and go to the Guard House, since I need to make a report.”

No one answered. Then, he suddenly added, “I should ask if you’re alright.”

It sounded less like genuine question and more like he had just remembered a list of human behaviour patterns he had to follow.

“Not a scratch” Peter said.

“I’m fine, son” DI Thursday said, only to obviously regret it when Morse flinched away from the nickname as if he had had another knife thrown at him.

“I am glad to hear it” he said and so they fell silent again.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were back at the nick, and Thursday went to tell Bright about what had happened.

He filled in the others.

Strange whistled, “He caught a knife out of thin air?”

He nodded. “It was quite the sight”.

And really, he thought, going for a smoke, that was a bloody understatement.

* * *

“This was my fault.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Yes it was. If I had been more careful –“

“Look at me”. For the first time, the second voice sounded genuinely annoyed. “This. Is. Not. Your. Fault. You have to concentrate.”

A pause. Then, a sigh, “I know. Thanks for reminding me of what matters.”

“That’s what I am here for.”

* * *

“A knife?”

“Thrown at us, sir” Fred replied. “Endeavour managed to catch it, though.”

“Seems like this demon training came in handy.”

“It did.”

Even if he had then moved away from Fred calling him son. But he hadn’t been wrong about earlier; he had been considerably warmer than before, and seemingly closer to him.

That was why it felt so wrong to have him draw back now after such an attack as this.

Dishonourable. Fred could have imagined quite a few different words for it.

“But you have the letter?”

Yes; it was one of the first things he’d checked once he’d realised what had happened. Maybe getting it back had even been the motive for the attack.

He remembered what Endeavours had said – they didn’t challenge him. How many fights had his son already been in? He was barely over thirty.

For the first time, he found himself thankful to the Morses for the training he had received, and how it had saved him and them today once again.

It was a good thing they left work at the hat stand, he thought.

That thought made him feel better until he actually arrived at home that night.

* * *

Fred hadn’t considered what it would do to the other members of his family to know that he got to spend much more time with their prodigal son than they had previously.

And so it was Joan who began. “What have you been up to today?”

“We leave the work at the –“

“The work, not Freddie” she hissed, and with a feeling of guilt, Fred recalled that she had actually gone and read books about demons and done her outmost to make him comfortable when he visited.

He thought of insisting but then he saw the desperation in their eyes and knew he couldn’t hold back, not when it came to this. Even if it would scare Win, he would have to be open.

The children, perhaps predictably, were rather impressed. “He can do what with knives?” Sam demanded to know while Joan breathed, “That’s amazing.”

It seemed like the old hero worship they had never quite grown out of when it came to their oldest was back, and back with a vengeance.

“So what are you going to do?” Win fretted.

He shrugged helplessly. “There really is nothing else to do but be on our guard” (thankfully no one commented on what was a rather poor pun). “For what it’s worth, though, I think Endeavour is –“

“Endevaour” Joan interrupted him, nodding as if she had already guessed what he was about to say. 

“It’s the name he grew up with, Joanie” he said quietly. “And today – well – “ he remembered Lee and took a deep breath. “I better started from the beginning.”

It went about as smoothly as he could have expected. When he mentioned the name and explained who he was, Win went deathly pale, undoubtedly reliving the moment as Fred had done; and when he admitted to pinching him, Joan cheered while Sam pumped a first into the air.

He really tried to chastise them for it, he really did, but couldn’t bring himself to. Not even Win commented on it.

He then continued, finally coming back to the attack and that the rest of the day had proven quiet.

“So you see” he finally concluded, “He was making an effort, and I felt – well I feel we should make one too, so I have been trying to call him Endeavour.” He wouldn’t deny that it hurt – that he hadn’t been proud of his oldest bearing his own name; but that didn’t matter.

When he was finished, it was Win who spoke. “I want to see his file.”

He hesitated. “Win…”

“You said you had his file. I want to see our boy’s file”.

It was at this point that Joan and Sam excused themselves, probably rightfully feeling that this was something between them, rather than a scene that should be played out by the whole family. And, as Joan quietly said, they “certainly had enough to talk about”.

Fred wondered if they would agree with his point of view of calling Freddie by the name he by now wore proudly.

“Win, are you sure –“

“I am surer of this than I have been of anything in my entire life, Fred Thursday”.

It wasn’t as if there was anything new in it; just the chance to ignore the possibility that it had been Fred’s own brother who had snitched on them; and to her credit, in all the years that had passed since that day, Win had never alluded to the possibility, never made a comment on how they had managed to keep it a secret for so many years and yet someone ought to have talked; she had always been by his side, his rock, holding the family together when all Fred had wanted to do was scream.

And so he got the file.

Win, like him, lingered a bit on the picture of their boy. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen one ever since she’d carefully packed away all mementoes; they had often enough gone to the room she’d put them in, together and separate, and he more than suspected that the children had stolen there as well quite often. They just hadn’t talked about it.

“Just your expression when you’re confused” she finally said quietly.

He didn’t know how to answer.

“He used to look at me like that, you know” she confided “Whenever there was something he couldn’t quite make sense of. He used to say “I suppose I’ll understand when I grow up, Mum.” She paused. “There are some things that never make sense though, are three.”

He couldn’t deny that. Yes, there were things neither of them would understand. Why somewhere in the distant past someone had decided that children with magic were too dangerous to keep around their human families; why they had to be taken away; why it had to have been their child, of all people.

They had never been angry that their son had had magic, not even when they had understood what it meant. It had just been a fact, and had taken nothing away from them being blessed with a wonderful, clever, kind boy who just happened to be able to cast spells.

Win kept speaking, and it took him a moment to realize she had never confided what she was saying to him before. “You know, I was terrified when I first discovered I was pregnant. You were away at war, and we’d only been married for a month… I knew tongues would wag. But when I held him… when I held him for the first time…” her voice broke. “He was so light, Fred, and I was so scared something would happen to him… and something did. He was still so light when they took him from me… I held on so hard, I tried to, but they… but they…”

“Pet…”

She sniffed and looked away, then gently touched their son’s picture like he had done. “But he’s come back. That’s the important part. He’s come back. I don’t care what his name is, now; I’ll gladly call him whatever he wants to be called. That’s his right. And really, no one’s obliged to keep the name their parents gave them; I don’t think anyone’s called me Winnifred in years. But _he’s come back. That’s what matters.”_

She turned the pages carefully, and he watched his own reactions being played out once more, even if she was less aggressive about it all then he was.

When she was done, she frowned.

“What is it?” he wanted to know immediately.

“I can’t say… there’s just something puzzling me. I can’t put my finger on it”. She closed the file. “It’s probably nothing.” Then, out of impulse, she opened it again and carefully extracted the picture. “I’ll ask… I’ll ask Endeavour what to do with that, when he comes home the next time.”

God bless her for saying _when_.

* * *

She knew she probably shouldn’t be doing this. When Fr – when End – when their boy (She would eventually figure it out, she just needed s little time) had given them his number, it had been made very clear that it was only to be used in case of emergencies.

She decided this was an emergency, and so she gently stepped downstairs again once Fred was asleep.

She quickly dialled and waited for it to be picked up.

“Commander Morse of the Guard.”

“Hello, it’s me.”

Only then dd she realize she hadn’t planned on how to introduce herself to him. She couldn’t call herself his mother, much as she wished to do so. “Win Thursday” she finally added.

“Yes. Yes of course.”

A pause.

“I… Fred told us what happened today” she rushed out quickly, “And I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I am in good health.”

“Good, that’s… good. I was worried.”

“There was no reason to be.” Another pause. “But I thank you for the sentiment.”

Progress, even in small steps. “I – I’ll let you get some rest, then.”

“Yes, that would probably be good for both of us” he agreed. Then, hesitantly, he added, “Good night.”

“Good night, dear” she said before she could stop herself.

Her only answer was the receiver being hastily put down and she sighed. At least he hadn’t seemed annoyed or confused.

* * *

Joan and Sam had repaired to his… to his and their brother’s room.

“What do you make of all this?” he finally asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you know, nothing unusual here at all. Someone’s after both our father and our brother, and the Firm is still getting away with it all.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Someone is killing them off” he reminded her.

“Good.”

He knew that both of their parents would have reprimanded them for it, but he could only agree with her.

“I mean, what right did they have? What bloody right did they have to take him away from us? And giving him to demons to…” she paused for a moment, then corrected herself, “It’s not as if I’m not glad that he got adopted by someone who cared for him. I am. But he belonged with us.”

“I know.”

She sighed. “What Dad told us is something, though. He wouldn’t have mellowed if he didn’t feel it was in accordance with his ad his adopted family’s honour and beliefs.”

Sam still didn’t quite understand all this demon stuff. Joan had inhaled several books and now seemed to get some things, but still not all of them, which he supposed was perfectly natural, but left them in a weird place that sometimes raised more questions than it answered.

But he had touched Dad today. Twice. That was a huge thing in demon culture, so much he had understood. So there was hope.

Although he was starting to think that he couldn’t quite say _what_ he was hoping for.

If there was anything Dad had made clear tonight, it was that they had to give up looking for Freddie and start seeing Endeavour.

“That thing with the names… would that be about honour and stuff too?” he suddenly asked. “I mean, they have a lot of traditions when it comes to that, don’t they?”

“Yes they do. And Endeavour’s a virtue name.”

He smirked in the darkness. “So it’s no synonym for “bloody stubborn?””

“That would be Dad’s name if we did things like that” she giggled.

“And you’d be “Nosy”.”

“Oh, you’d definitely be Annoying”.

At least tonight they laughed. 

* * *

The next morning.

Two voices.

“You seem distracted today.”

“I have every reason to be.”

“You know you can tell me everything, right?”

“I will. Eventually. I promise.”

“All I could ask for.”

* * *

Fred knew he shouldn’t have been thinking like this, but part of him was rather hoping that by the time he arrived at the station, someone would have done Lee in. He would gadfly arrests his murderer – that was his duty – but there would be something satisfying about knowing he succeeded before that.

It was utterly wrong of course, and if Endeavour had known, he would probably have been shocked and considered him dishonourable; but Fred had woken up for years after that day with his son’s screams ringing in his ears.

And so he was somewhat disappointed when Strange told him everything was as it had been.

“Anything from the files yet?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

It would have been too easy if it had been, so he took the news well and went into his office.

* * *

The Old Man was in his office, and Jim only hoped that he wasn’t brooding. The worst part of it all wasn’t even that he feared that he and Jakes would have to hold him back again; the worst part was that Jim wasn’t sure he wouldn’t let him have a go at it.

Apart from everything else (and it was quite something else; wouldn’t want to know what Mum would say when he told her he’d had to protect the “child snatcher”) he just couldn’t stand Lee. There was something so off-putting about him, something that had made him realize that, when push came to shove, he preferred Morse hands down, whether he showed emotions or not.

He knew he was the Old Man’s son, of course. Coppers talked. And lately, they had been given a lot to gossip about.

But somehow, Jim felt that most of it was missing the point.

There were so many who claimed how different, how weird Commander Morse was, that they could never suspected the relation.

Jim thought differently.

On the contrary, sometime she could have sworn that he was much more like the Old Man than the Inspector himself even realized. In his dedication to duty; in the way he had set up the black board, even if he had done so using magic; in the logic he applied to cases; there was something that reminded him very much of his father.

Ad even with him being all proper and polite due to his demonic upbringing, there was something in his – yes, Jim would have been ready to call it friendliness, after all, he treated everyone as an equal and was kind in his own way – that immediately brought Mrs. Thursday to mind.

He hadn’t told anyone. He would have liked to tell the Old Man, but didn’t know how.

“Ah. Sergeant Strange.”

He looked up and realized he once more hadn’t heard Commander Morse come in.

Strange, he looked a bit like he’d been put through the wringer, if he thought about it. As if something had happened… “You alright, matey?” he asked before he could stop himself, knowing in the next moment that he would most likely be at least –

And then, to his utter surprise, Morse only blinked at him. “I am very well, thank you, Sergeant.” He went to look at the evidence again.

Wasn’t he even uncomfortable with his parents using his first name?

Jim was utterly confused.

But then, he believed that usually was the case where demons were concerned.

* * *

Peter had no idea what Morse had just said to Strange, or rather, what Strange had said to Morse, but it all looked rather… well, strange to him.

Something was going on .

Trouble was, with these bloody demon customs, he couldn’t very well ask. Might be that that had been Strange’s mistake to begin with.

And it wasn’t like he had any rights to interfere. He was just the bagman… who happened to see what a strain the situation was on all the Thursdays.

Certainly Miss Thursday’s smiles had dimmed somewhat in the last few weeks, and Mrs. Thursday wasn’t herself, either. He didn’t know Sam well enough to tell if he, too, was affected, but it was more than likely.

And right now, the Old Man couldn’t _afford_ to be affected. Not when he had to maintain that he wasn’t bothered by Mr. Lee being one of the targets.

Lee. Peter wondered how much pain he had brought to how many families over the years, and then he wondered whether it wouldn’t be the best thing to just let the murderer do what they apparently did best, and then he decided to stop wondering about it all because this was not a good thing to be thinking.

“Quite right” Morse suddenly agreed and he found he’d wondered over to the black board. “Better not think about it.”

Had he been talking to himself? No; probably not; a clever man would always be able to guess what someone else was concentrating on, and Commander Morse struck him as nothing but sharp.

Still, I couldn’t hurt to try and build rapport. “How did you…”

To his utter surprise, he gave him something that he would have deemed a sarcastic little smile if he hadn’t known about his demonic upbringing. “It’s rather difficult not to think about, is it.”

Peter imagined a young boy of twelve waking up without knowing who he was and only learning that he had been taken away from his family due to something no one had control over. He thought of the Firm’s members looking after the children, for better or worse. “Did you know the victims personally?” he suddenly found himself asking.

He shrugged (what was going on today? One of his defining characteristics so far had been his demonic stillness, for lack of a better phrase). “I might have met them once or twice. Mostly I dealt with Mr. Lee.”

“For the love of God, don’t let the Old Man hear that. I think one broken nose is enough.”

Morse abruptly turned away and coughed – that was what it had to be; it was inconceivable that he might be laughing, Peter was sure of that – right? He wouldn’t be laughing. “You may be right there, Sergeant.”

Somehow, the talk left him more unsettled then their previous short ones, mostly because it had been almost normal. Almost pleasant.

Almost as if he did care, after all.

If that was no reason for hope, Peter decided, nothing was.

Even if Morse left shortly thereafter.

* * *

It might have been cold, but that had never deterred Joan from having her sandwich in the park, and these days, she valued her alone time more than ever.

She had to think. About life and Fre – Endeavour and everything in general.

Mum had looked ill when Dad had told them about the attack, and she herself had felt scarcely better. While it was impressive what her brother could do, she’d rather he not need any superhuman knife-catching powers, thank you.

It was all so complicated. There were so many trios one could fall in when dealing with demons, and they had told them Endeavour was a demon of sorts…

And yet.

And yet.

There were some things only Joan was bound to notice, for a few simple reasons.

While she had occasionally wished she looked different, she also knew that she was quite pretty enough to draw the attention of men of all sorts. Frankly, she never told Dad everything because she didn’t want him to go on a rampage.

Here was the thing, though.

Technically, Endeavour wasn’t supposed to remember them, or feel any family connection to them.

And yet he had never looked at her the way other men did once. Not even in a _Oh it’s a pretty girl_ way, like some elder men liked to do. No. He’d always looked at her with his usual steady, calm gaze.

Almost as if he did feel they were related after all.

It wasn’t much, but if that was all she had going for her, she would take it.

Joan was also very aware that she had work on herself as well.

She loved her big brother – loved the boy who had been taken away. She would learn to love this man, too. After all, he could catch knives, and he was polite and measured, and he had never yet turned down one of Mum’s invitations.

“Good morning, Miss. Would you mind terribly if I sat down?”

“Of course not” she replied politely, and the man sat down, smiling gently at her.

He looked like enough, but Joan was always on her guard when strangers approached her.

“I’m just waiting for my boy. Works around here.”

She nodded.

“The fisherman’s supplies store. Do you know it?”

She shook her head. “I am afraid not.” Well, he seemed to be just a normal middle-aged man. And really, if he was talking of his son, who was she to object to that? She knew Dad was proud of all of their accomplishments – was even proud of F – Endeavour’s role in the Guard, and that part of him even relished working the case with him.

“Oh I just thought maybe you were waiting for someone too – a brother, maybe.” He laughed. “Sorry, my own children are so close I assume everyone has siblings.”

His laugh was so pleasant that she couldn’t help but smile. “I do, actually. Two brothers”. There had been a time when she thought she’d never say that again, and it felt even more wonderful than she had thought. She had two brothers again now, and it didn’t bother her a bit.

But – even with as nice as it felt talking to the man – there was _something else_ that was bothering her.

Somehow, there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to be on her guard for no reason at all.

But then, she’d learned early on to trust her instincts. For a long time after her brother had been taken, one of her worst fears had been that she or Sammy would be taken away too, whether they had magic or not, and so she’d always been on the watch whenever Mum or Dad or both took them somewhere.

And all of those instincts were screaming now.

“And are you close?”

She opened her mouth, then realized she was about to reveal it all – that she thought Endeavour cared more about them than he wanted to admit, that he had come back zo them after all – and bit down so hard she could taste blood.

She suddenly recalled what he had told them that first night, looking so earnest, so desirous of them being save.

Every magic user has their own tricks.

She didn’t know how or why she could tell, but magic was being used against her.

“Somewhat” she managed to say even though her lips were already forming other words. “Somewhat. But you know how it can be, with a family.”

Leave.

“If you excuse me, my lunch break is almost over”.

She got up and left, the euphoria she had felt slowly dissipating as her mind cleared.

She threw her sandwich away. She had no appetite anymore.

A phone. She needed to find a phone, and now.

* * *

“Commander Morse, please. I’m… I’m his sister.”

“Of course, Miss” said the friendly voice at the other end, and then she was being out through.

Thank God she had memorized the Guard’s number.

“Commander Morse –“

“It’s me” she rushed out, “Joan”, only realizing how bad she must have sounded when he immediately asked, “What’s the matter?”

She told him.

“What did he look like?”

“I---.” She tried to remember but was mostly unsuccessful.

“You have to think of other things” he told her almost gently. “Then it’ll come to you.”

It didn’t make any sense, but she was ready to try it.

And she made it.

“He was… tall. Taller than Dad, I’m sure. Dark-haired. Glasses. Carefully trimmed beard…”

A pause. “Would you please return to the Bank and stay there? I am going to come and see you.”

To this day, he’d ever shown any interest in her place of work, and despite everything, her heart skipped a beat. She dimly remembered the other kids in the street being envious of her having the best big brother ever, and she’d get to show him off all over again.

Calm down girl, he’s not a pet.

Still. “Alright, see you then.”

“Promise to stay at the Bank?” he sounded rather worried, so she gave him what he asked for, and he hung up without another word.

Once she arrived back at work, she quickly informed their manager that her brother was dropping by “on important Guard business”. Of course everyone knew about him having returned to them – it wasn’t the kind of thing you could keep a secret, and she wouldn’t have wanted that anyway – so he acquiesced.

She hadn’t told anyone about his demonic upbringing however, and so there were quite a few raised eyebrows when Fr – when Endeavour strolled in fifteen minutes later. “Joan” he said quickly, worry so evident in his expression and voice that she almost didn’t recognize him for a second “Is there somewhere we can speak?”

“My manager said we could have his office if necessary.”

He relaxed back into his usual calm demeanour. “Good.”

She led him there, very aware that her colleagues were following them with their eyes.

As soon as they had entered, he turned to her. “Would you please hold up your hands like this?” he asked, his arms bent at the elbow with the palms up.

She did.

“Do I have your permission to perform a spell to make sure there is no residual dark magic left to affect you?”

“Of course” she replied immediately. She’d not yet seen her brother perform magic; he hadn’t even been in the habit of doing it when he had still lived at home; her mother had very carefully explained to them that they should never ask it of him, lest someone found out.

He took hold off her wrists, cradling them like something precious, or at least so she liked to think. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and she was suddenly struck with the memory of him doing his homework at the kitchen table while she and Sammy played around his feet. He had never complained, not once.

He mumbled a few words she didn’t understand and a glow started to spread out from his hands into her arms. She wasn’t scared in the least.

Eventually, the glow subsided and he dropped his hands. “Nothing”.

His apparent indifference struck a sharp contrast to the worry he had shown upon his arrival, and she wondered if perhaps for him, it was relief – to be able to return to this behaviour. Either way, she chose not to be hurt by it. “Who was this man?” she asked. “What did he do to me?”

“He did – or rather tried – to make you disclose information, as far as I can tell” he replied carefully. “It’s a spell that… a spell of mind-control, I’d call it.”

Mind control. She shivered. “And who was it?”

“The trouble is” he mused “There is nothing we can do to prosecute – it clearly has to do with me, and therefore falls under the amnesty the Firm was granted…”

The Firm? “Who was it, Endeavour?” She had to know.

He seemingly didn’t react to her using his first name, instead looking her straight into the eyes. “Mr. Lee.”

That was too much. Over the years, Joan had come to see the people who had taken her big brother away as monsters, some kind of human bogey men; they had to be, otherwise they wouldn’t be doing this, would they? And now the very man who taken him out of Mum’s arms had come and tried to control her mind…

He tears escaped before she could help it, and perhaps would have gone on if Endeavour hadn’t suddenly taken her into his arms. It was barely an embrace; certainly; it was not even much of a touch; but still; he was holding her, like she dimly remembered he used to do when she came into his room at night, crying because she was scared of thunderstorms or had had a nightmare.

And just as it had then, it made her tears stop.

He stepped away a little too quickly for her liking once she had stopped quivering, but she would take what she could get. “Thank you” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome, Joan. It’s not… pleasant, being targeted by magic.”

“You can say that again” she said, grinning even though there was nothing happy about their topic ( _Joan_ , he had used Joan _again_ ).

“I’ll make a note, but I think it would be better not to tell…” he hesitated then pressed on “Our parents quite yet. F – DI Thursday already punched Mr. Lee once; I am rather worried that this would lead to something worse.”

She had to admit that he was right and acquiesced.

She wondered if she should goodbye via courtesy again, but instead he gently laid a hand on her arm. It was another feather-light touch but it was there. “I will have hex bags sent around to your house tonight. They should keep you all from harm.”

“You could come over and have dinner” she suggested, but sadly, he looked more shocked than anything. “I’m sorry” she immediately backtracked. “I don’t mean to pressure you, I really don’t.”

“I am very aware of that” he answered. “It’s just… not easy for me. I am trying, however; I can promise you that.”

“I know you are. We all do.” Even if they all wished in their hearts that things would progress more rapidly.

He turned to leave but returned one more time. “Oh, and Joan?” He actually smiled somewhat sarcastically. “I think it would be rather better if you pretended to look more downcast after our interview as you are. They are definitely keeping you and the rest of the family under observation.”

She nodded; that was easy enough.

Jane, of course, came to her as soon as Endeavour had left. “That’s your brother!? You have to introduce me sometimes!”

Joan thought of making him meet her bubbly, happy-go-lucky co-worker and decided she might wait with that until a day he particularly annoyed her.

* * *

“I’m going to –“

“You are going to stop and think, that’s what you’re going to do. Rushing this will do no good at all.”

…

“I know. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I would have been angry too, if it had been my –“

“Angry enough to go and explode someone?”

“That’s your temper, and you keep it under control most of the time anyway.”

“I just wish things could be over and done with.”

* * *

Endeavour didn’t come for dinner, and it had perhaps been too much to expect it.

And yet the evening became quite wonderful.

A messenger – a nervous young man who seemed to be very desirous indeed to be as polite to the Commander’s family as he could be – brought them a package with the hex bags that were to protect them; and when Mum opened it, a letter fell out.

 _Dear Mother,_ it said.

_Seeing as we are dealing with a high-risk case, and there are many who would not refrain from using any method to get what they want, it occurred to me that it would be better for all of you to carry protections from now on; I assembled the bags myself to make sure they were of the best quality._

_Please carry them whenever you leave the house._

_I remain your dutiful son,_

_Commander Endeavour Morse._

It was hardly a heartfelt note, but Mum wouldn’t let go of it all through dinner, occasionally stopping eating to trace the words _Dear Mother_ in Endeavour’s handwriting, proving how much it meant to her to be addressed as such by him, even if only in written form.

That night, Sam agreed with her that it was a good sign. “Remember when he first came round? All that Mrs. and Inspector Thursday business. Seems he’s gotten over it.”

“Not sure “gotten over” is the right expression” she replied carefully, thinking of the hug that had been so voluntarily bestowed on her.

“Whatever; Freddie’s growing –“

“Endeavour. His name is Endeavour.”

He sighed. “I still don’t understand why that’s so important.”

“Because it was a name that was bestowed on him for a purpose. Demons do that.”

“Alright, I’ll try my best” he immediately conceded. “At least it’s a fun name.”

Fun? She wasn’t so sure.

But it was important enough. 

* * *

Superintendent Bright had been remarkably absent from the investigation for a while, now. Fred thought he could detect the cause – the fact that his boy was, as Bright had told him, alive and giving him daily hope of a full return to the family; that he could look upon the child that had been taken away from him and see the man he had become while Bright had no such comfort; that he probably felt ashamed about the only too understandable resentment he must be experiencing because of all this, and that he had therefore decided to follow the case from a distance.

He mentioned as much to Endeavour omen day, as they were going over the meagre evidence yet again.

He raised his head and looked at him. “In that case, I do hope he and Mrs. Bright will feel more cheerful soon. They deserve it.”

I sounded just like the formal thing a demon would as, but Fred was surprised and slightly dismayed to hear his voice tremble and notice by the way he was shuffling the papers around but not reading them that he was more affetti than he let on.

Diode Endeavour dwell sometimes on it, too, then – the possibility that he might never have made it home if not for luck?

The weeks went on as nothing more happened. Lee dropped by once or twice but was intercepted by Jakes and the others, and thankfully Endeavour kept his promise not to meet any members of the Firm.

Fred couldn’t help but worry about their boy anyway. He seemed to grow more nervous and irritated with each passing day – not with them, just in general; and after family meals, he would hasten away more often than not.

Win, God bless her, prescribed it to him finally accepting them as family and being drawn between his duties to his adoptive parents’ memories and his fondness for them. Fred would have liked to believe her.

The examinations of the crime scenes had given them nothing. There were no fingerprints to be found, and nothing new had materialized.

He probably should have seen it coming, but one day, Endeavour knocked on the door of his office. “We need to move this case along. If it grows cold…” There was trepidation in his voice, although Fred couldn’t imagine of what. And he couldn’t ask. He might have taken it as an intrusion.

“What do you propose, then?”

“We need to speak to more witnesses. I am very aware that you don’t want me anywhere near the Firm--- Father… but it is my duty to solve the case.”

“Our duty” he corrected him.

A slight smile. “Indeed. We need to speak to the witnesses again, the family members of the deceased.”

Fred, who’d been gathering his things, closed the drawer of his desk with more force than necessary.

Endeavour said nothing.

And off they went.

* * *

Shirley Trewlove and Jakes were already waiting for them, proving that Endeavour had planned this beforehand. Fred wasn’t surprised. He’d always known their boy was clever.

“It will be for the best if we split up the witnesses between us” Endeavour said evenly. “And no” he sighed when Fred opened his mouth, “I am not going to interview Mr. Lee.”

“Exactly because that’s what I’m going to do.”

To say his son looked sceptical would have been a colossal understatement, but at least it was a reaction – he’d been having more and more of those, and it was almost a revelation. He looked so much more like Fred’s Mum then.

“I should show him that I can behave myself” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as sarcastic as he felt. “You know, clear any bad blood. Show good will.”

“No offense sir” Jakes carefully said “But would you mind terribly if you left your gun in the office?”

Endeavour looked away; Fred wondered why for a moment, then he said, his voice study as ever, “Alright. Let’s see what we can get from the other witnesses, then.”

They made a quick job of splitting up the work.

* * *

Peter was starting to get whiplash. Morse was continuing to confused him; at times he seemed almost entirely human, and then he would say something that was so outlandish and obviously demonic that it became impossible to ignore his upbringing once more.

And yet –

And yet.

Peter, being not one of the family, had some distance to it all that he felt was rather an advantage in figuring out what was going on; and he sometimes had the feeling – when Morse almost smiled at his father, when he barely refrained from mentioning his siblings, when he looked oddly whimsical when the DI mentioned Mrs. Thursday – that he was slipping. As if most of this was a performance he had decided to do for whatever reason.

Not that that made any sense at all. Why should he be putting on a performance to begin with? What possible advantage could he have from pretending he didn’t nearly care as much for his family as he actually did? And why should he pretend to be a demon when he was human?

Like he’d thought before – it made no sense at all.

Peter had been sent to speak to the wife of the first victim, Tobias Browning, who had been rather high up in The Firm, and whose death had probably come as a shock to all who knew and liked him (which Peter calculated to be his wife and the other employees of the Firm. If he was being generous).

He stopped the car and stared at the house, or rather, the mansion.

Dear God. Just how much money had the country given these people for kidnapping kids?

There was nothing he could do about it, however, and so he got out and rang the bell.

And honest to God maid answered and he managed not to sneer as he introduced himself. Barely, but he did.

Mrs. Browning seemed remarkably calm for someone who had lost her husband all of six weeks ago (wasn’t there a quote by Wilde about someone’s hair turning golden with grief? He wasn’t sure). “I really don’t know if I can help you anymore, Sergeant. This one female officer…”

“Shirley Trewlove?”

“Yes, she already dropped by.”

“We just want to make sure we’ve overlooked nothing” he said evenly. “Now I know it’s not easy, but would you tell me exactly how you found your husband?”

She met his stare evenly, and he way starting to wonder if he’d ever truly considered Morse emotionless. “If it’s necessary… I had been dining out with friends. He said he would stay home and work. The Firm winding down has brought so much paperwork…”

 _Paperwork_? That was what she was concerned about, what _they_ were concerned about? Despite fearing that it might not have been the best idea to let the Old Man talk to Lee, Peter was starting to think that it might have been their best shot. At least he knew Lee already, at least he was used to his way of being… this. “I am sure” he said courtly.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not… one of them, are you, Sergeants?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am?” It was something he had learned early in life: if in doubt, be aggressively polite. It unnerves people.

“One of those who wouldn’t see that their children – or siblings, in your case I’d assume – had to be extracted?”

“No, ma’am. I grow up in a home. I never knew my parents.” _Hurt them with the truth._

But if anything, she seemed relieved. “Ah. So you know that it’s not all that important to grow up with one’s birth parents.”

All of a sudden, he heard the crying of children and felt the sting of a cane, but he managed to keep himself under control. “Like I said, I never knew them.”

“I just feel” she said proudly “there should be some… decorum in those things. I understand one of your people punched Mr. Lee.”

And somehow, Peter found inspiration in Morse. “It was rather an emotional scene, ma’am” he said flatly. “Mr. Lee came in unexpectedly and the last time the person in question had seen him, he’d been taking his child away from him.”

He wanted to add _said child tried to stop him_ but wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

“Well, I can see how difficult that would be…” she mused, proving she was at least partly human underneath it all. “Still, one would think that after the Firm had been established for so long, people would accept what was going on.”

He thought it best not to say anything, instead pressed on, “Now, ma’am, the night you found your husband…”

“Oh yes. I wanted to pop into his study to tell him good night, and there he was, with his throat cut… I won’t ever forget that sight. Everything else was in order, though.”

“So there was no sign of a break-in… just to make sure.”

“No, there wasn’t. Whoever it was, either they knew how to pick a lock or my husband let them in.”

The way she told it really made Peter question a few things. Not about the murder – oh no he didn’t think she’d cared enough for her husband to kill him; but whatever he had thought of Commander Morse previously. He decided to study him carefully once he returned, and then draw his conclusions. Maybe there would be an easy explanation for all of it after all. Maybe not.

Either way, for the first time since he met Commander Morse, he actually truly felt something like hope for the Old Man.

“I see” he said simply. “And nothing was stolen?”

And there was it.

Hesitation.

“Mrs. Browning?”

“Well… I never quite knew how many papers my husband had, you know…”

“Concerning to the Firm?” he asked, feeling electrified.

“Exactly. There might be some missing, I don’t know.”

“Do you happen to know what kind of papers he would be keeping for the Firm?”

“Oh, the usual. A few of the more special files…”

Special children, Peter’s mind supplied, and he found himself wondering if those had included Morse.

“And of course the expenses, et cetera. Mr. Lee was always one for an open work environment.”

Yes, being very open about taking children away, Peter bet.

“May I see your husband’s office? Just to make sure, ma’am.”

The first thing that struck him when he reached the desk were the pictures. There were several of them, and by the looks of it…

“We never had any children of our own. He always said those were his, though” she said, and there was actually something like fondness in her voice for once.

Peter, though, couldn’t answer immediately; he was too busy staring at the pictures of whole classes of children who were just taught the ways of The Firm, who had not so long ago been living with their parents and siblings, only to be made to forget them.

And he had had the audacity to call them his children.

Peter knew that look in their eyes, too. They were scared and felt alone and unloved; they had no idea what the future would bring; and those who were looking after them weren’t kind. Not at all.

God, he suddenly wished that whoever had cut Browning’s throat was far away.

“Let’s see…” he mumbled to himself and quickly busied himself with opening the desk drawers lest Mrs. Browning realize what he was thinking.

“These would be the accounts, wouldn’t it?” he asked her, holding up files on which several dates were printed, going so far back as twenty years.

“Yes.”

“There’s none for last year…” he said calmly as he flipped through them. Accountancy had never interested him much, but he knew huge numbers when he saw one, and he was rather sure that if the public ever found out how much money had been paid to steal children, there would be riots in the streets. Probably led by the Old Man, if he was being honest.

Still… it was something. And for Peter’s money, that whole revenge explanation had always sounded too neat anyway. Because, if you looked at it from the perspective of someone who had suffered for years because their child had been taken… it wasn’t much of a revenge, was it? One quick cut, and all over with. He certainly hadn’t suffered. It was almost clinical.

Like someone had been carefully taught how to handle knives, he thought suddenly, and before he could stop himself, he had connected it all with Morse. That was stupid, of course; demons thought a lot about honour, and if he had done anything, he’d have marched into the station and confessed, of that Peter was absolutely sure.

But there were others who learned how to fight, and how and were to cut to kill someone…

He bit his lip. “I’ll take those with me, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, Sergeant.”

He left, wondering why Officer Trewlove had neglected to do so until now. She had struck him as competent enough, really, so he was mostly confused.

* * *

Again, Fred was left to make his own way to Lee’s office. By now, his anger had burned down to just a simmer; it was still far from gone, but at least their boy was back and seemingly closer to them than he had been before.

“Ah, Inspector. Do come in. Still no news?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Sit down, please.”

With some regret, he found that Lee’s face had healed completely; part of him would have liked him to keep a gunny nose.

“I just wish to make absolutely certain we know everything we can about the victims… Mr. Browning and Mr. Owens.“

“Ah. I miss them. Even though I admit they were not as gifted as some others… Such good friends of mine, and great assets to the Firm… even now when it’s winding down” he said. “Of course.”

“So what were their duties, exactly?”

“Browning was teaching the children… he was left somewhat at a loss what to do, to be honest, so I made him responsible for the Firm’s finances as we are shutting all of it down. Owens had always had a more administrative role.”

“I see.”

“I assure you, we meant the children no harm, Investor. We were all ones ourselves, grew up to serve the Firm.”

That might have been true., but not all those who had been raised by monsters grew into monsters themselves. Fred had seen enough to be sure of that.

“Browning was always so very fond of his children, as he called them… and we always followed Commander Morse’s career with the greatest interest.”

And with a start, Fred realized Lee actually considered himself fond of Endeavour. Fond. As if he hadn’t taken him from them.

“I actually still have my doubts whether it’s for the best…” he stopped talking abruptly when he saw Fred’s face. “I apologize, Inspector. I realize it is far from appropriate to tell you any of this.”

 _Bloody right,_ Fred thought, _you’re bloody well right._

Aright. So one for the finances, one for the administrative side of things. He thought about how Endeavour would act, took a deep breath and spoke. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Lee, but what exactly is _your_ role while winding down the Firm?”

Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Of course. Inspector, you have to be aware that there has to be someone to keep an eye on things – a little like your Mr. Bright, perhaps.”

And his smile – a poisonous thing, like the fangs of a snake – told Fred everything.

He knew. He knew that Mr. Bright’s daughter had been another one who had been taken away, knew what had happened to her. And he enjoyed knowing, enjoyed believing that Fred had no idea…

He had been right. He was never going to let his son go near this monster again. “So you keep the secrets?”

These eyes, still twinkling. “You could say that. If there were any to keep. We have always been open about what we are doing.”

_But not about how the children were doping. Or how many you took. How many were lost._

He nodded because it seemed to be the easiest way to deal with all of this.

He bid Lee goodbye almost immediately afterwards because it didn’t seem like there was anything he could tell him that would help.

But he called him back when he reached the door. Another wry smile, and then – “Do give your son my regards, Inspector. He always was such a conscientious child.”

No, Fred wasn’t sorry at all about the punch.

* * *

“It’s me. Anything?”

“Sergeant Jakes just returned with something… We were right.”

“Knew it. Now all we need is… well…”

“It can’t be easy for you, being patient.”

“I have to be. Nothing for it.”

“Still…”

“You’re coming with this evening?”

“Don’t I always.”

* * *

“Alright” Fred decided that afternoon, stepping up rot the black board. It was time they dealt with this once and for all, so they could move on to more important things – for example, to make Endeavour feel welcome. Currently he too was busy looking over the evidence, but there was something… different in his posture. Fred couldn’t quite put his fingers on it. “So what have we got? There had to be connections between the victims, besides were they worked.”

“All of them were senior members of the Firm” Endeavour began evenly. “All of them had access to all the files, all of them…”

“All of them bastards” Jakes said casually while looking for a cigarette.

If Fred hadn’t happened to glance over at him and therefore see the window, he would never have noticed.

But as it was, he was looking straight at Endeavour’s face. He’d turned it away from them all again, but –

He was smiling. And it wasn’t just a hint of one, or a shadow – this was an actual _smile_ , like Jakes had made a funny joke.

What –

Before he could say anything, however Officer Trewlove stepped in. “That may be true but it’s normally not enough for anyone to want to kill them.”

“Speak for yourself”. It escaped Fred before he could help it, and he automatically glanced at the window, but Endeavour’s features were hidden from his view now. And so he couldn’t say whether he was smiling.

The others were, though.

“The thing is… only these three seem to have been targeted” Trewlove said. “And as far as we know only one senior member is needed for every extraction so why would they kill all of them?”

“So you are saying that it can’t be a general revenge against the Guard because no one else has even been targeted, and it can’t be a family member because they would not be responsible for a single child being taken… Maybe a few families are working together?”

“Doctor DeBryn said that the wounds are very similar” Endeavour pointed out, “Which probably means we have only one perpetrator.”

“There must be another motive then” Jakes supplied. “Here – I took the liberty of taking some of Browning’s files with me, sir.”

“Ah” Endeavour said, “Accounting.” He passed the files on to Trewlove. She nodded and went on to leaf through them and hopefully find something.

Something niggled at the back of Fred’s mind, but he didn’t quite know what it was.

Endeavour looked thoughtful as he went to the phone, probably to check in with the Guard.

Out of courtesy, he didn’t listen in on his phone call.

If he had, he would have been surprised.

* * *

Joan was called to the phone by Jane. “It’s your brother” she told her with sparkling eyes.

“Which one?” she asked even though it was probably Sam. It just felt good to say so.

“The one who dropped by – the good-looking one” she grinned and Joan quickly snatched the phone out of her hands. “Endeavour?”

“Hello Joan. I just wanted to make sure the protection is working.”

“Yes thank you. Things have been quiet. How’s it been at your end? You and Dad making progress?”

“There seems to be some” he said quietly but firmly and she knew better than to pry. It was nice he told her, all the same.

“Good to know. Just make sure you wrap this up before any of the other members of the Firm get attacked. It would be _such_ a waste”.

“That was rather sarcastic.”

“That’s me” she agreed, smiling to herself.

“I guess so.” A pause. “Take care of yourself, Joan.”

“Same”. Even though, she thought, if he had inherited anything from Dad, that would be far from the truth.

“Goodbye, Joan.”

Every time he said her name, she felt more hopeful. Yet she hadn’t told her parents; she knew he didn’t want her to, but it was exceedingly difficult.

Still – it was progress.

* * *

Once he was done speaking on the telephone, Endeavours stepped up to Sergeant Strange and asked him something in a low voice. He nodded and left.

By now, Fred understand him well enough to at least know that he would answer immediately and honestly if he asked him what he had told him; but at the same time, he would inform him when he needed to know. And so he waited, for the time being.

Officer Trewlovbe was still busy with the files while Endeavour went through the autopsy reports again.

Fred repaired to his office to have a pipe, remembering Endeavour’s smile. It had looked like the one he had so often shown him when he was a child. Fred remembered that smile, remembered it with tooth gaps and all the innocence in the world in his eyes.

It didn’t make any sense for him to smile, though. Not because Jakes has made a tasteless joke – if anyone could be forgiven for smiling at that, it would be their son.

That was what it was. It was much too understandable for a human, not for the demon he had been raised as.

What could it possibly mean? And why would he not openly show his smile? He must know what it would have meant to Fred to be able to tell his mother…

Did he, though? Did he actually know? Did he care? But if he didn’t care, why would he bother to hide his smile?

Fred knew he should have been concentrating on the case, but he couldn’t.

* * *

“E – Ehm – Commander Morse, could you come here for a second?”

Officer Trewlove sounded excited, which explained why she’d had to clear her throat, although it had sounded a bit strange to Peter.

He went to her side immediately with his calm, measure strides. “Yes, Officer?”

“I die believe I have found a few irregularities.”

“Irregularities?”

In the accounts”.

“What kind?” he asked.

God help him, Peter couldn’t imagine how he could sound so calm. He himself felt proud. He’d had a feeling, he’d taken the files, and he might just have been right.

“You should get DI Thursday” she said, turning to Peter. “And Superintendent Bright.”

He automatically moved to obey, although he had yet to figure out the chain of command when it came to Trewlove. But then, all of them were for a different agency, so to speak, so it probably didn’t matter.

He left them talking quietly to themselves but Morse called him back. “I would wait until Sergeant Strange returned. I had a hunch.”

He didn’t elaborate.

* * *

“This could be it.”

“We shouldn’t get our hopes up.”

“…”

“I know I’m not the one to talk”.

“And don’t you forget it.”

* * *

Strange returned about two hours later; Morse and Trewlove had been working and talking all this time, and Peter was starting to wonder just how long they had known each other. They seemed a little too familiar of the way they did things.

Maybe he was just growing suspicious. And he didn’t want to do that, not when it came to the Old Man’s oldest, so he put the thought away.

“You were right, ma – Commander Morse!” Strange suddenly rushed in. “It’s not much, but I have a statement from someone two streets over. I doubt it’s going to do much, but –“

“Wait a second, please.” Morse turned to Peter. “I think it’s time to get your superior officers, Sergeant.”

And so he left to do just that.

* * *

He got Superintendent Bright first since his office was a little farer away.

When he entered, he was looking out of the window with his arms crossed behind his back. He appeared deep ion thought.

Peter cleared his throat. “Sir? Commandeer Morse said to get you. We might have caught a break in the case.”

He turned around and to his surprise, his eyes were shining, almost as if he had been… “Commander Morse? He’s there?”

If his teary eye had surprised him, the genuine fondness in his voice when he talked about him utterly baffled Peter. He’d had no idea they even knew each other well enough for any feelings of this kind to develop; and even then, he wouldn’t have thought that they would get along. Maybe he respected his demonic training that allowed him to put aside his feelings and fulfil his duties no matter what?

Still…

He nodded. “Yes, has been for a while. He and Officer Trewlove seem to have come up with an idea.”

But Superintendent Bright was already moving, intent on getting there.

* * *

It seemed Strange had been sent to collect the Old Man, for he was already there.

“Commander Morse. Officer Trewlove.”

Now he sounded different, as if he was trying to hide the fondness he had betrayed such a short time ago, and Peter felt definitely confused now. What could he possibly derive from doing so? Maybe he thought it would hurt the Inspector if he realized that they were closer than he was to his own son?

“Superintendent. Inspector.” Morse was quiet for a moment, then said, “First of all, Officer Trewlove has found some irregularities in the account files of the Firm that might give us a motive. And I asked Sergeant Strange to look for witnesses and he came up with a statement. Sergeant?”

“It appears that on the night Browning was killed, someone saw someone a few streets away. It’s not much but it is something” Strange said hopefully.

“What’s the description, then?” DI Thursday asked.

Strange told them.

They all knew immediately who the suspect was.

* * *

They had decided in unison that neither the Old Man nor Morse were to have anything to do with that arrest, although Morse would later be sitting in the interview room with Jakes. Instead, they had dispatched Strange and Trewlove to get Mr. Lee.

Really, the biggest surprise was that until now they hadn’t really considered him a suspect. But then, one grew up with stories about the Firm – how tight-knit they were, how loyal to one another. And Lee had broken every oath he had sworn.

It almost seemed more monstrous than anything else he had done, but only because they were so used to the Firm operating, the Firm working, the Firm being The Thing That Could Not Change. But it had changed now, hadn’t it? It had changed, and it was ending.

Seemed like Lee had sped up the process.

And just for money. Peter suddenly felt that he would have been less disgusted if there had been some kind of noble motive, just… anything.

Buti there wasn’t. There was just the money they had been laundering away, and Lee had decided he wanted all of it instead of sharing.

Well, that and hiding what they had done so they wouldn’t bear the consequences.

“But why wouldn’t they just put that in the Agreement?” he asked. “I mean – they already got all that stuff about not going away for kidnapping, so –“

“If they had included any of this in the Agreement, the public would have wondered what else they were hiding.”

Peter couldn’t help himself. “You read the Agreement and all the materials?” He knew it had been in the works for years at least.

Now there was a rather undemonic hint of amusement in his eyes as he answered flatly, “OF course.”

“So how are we doing this, Commander Morse?” he decided to be formal, “Is it even… well are you… I mean, shouldn’t you technically –“

“Article 28, subsection 34, paragraph 3. Those who have been taken by the Firm might assist in investigations of members of said Firm as long as it pertains to crimes not covered in the Agreement” he quoted and Peter got the sudden if most unlikely impression that Morse himself was responsible for that rule.

“So we can arrest him for money laundering and murder?” he clarified.”

“Most definitely” he said, and there was a certain excitement in his voice now.

And Peter realized, even though he was probably the only one. He is looking forward to this.

It was more emotion than he would ever have expected of him, and it made him glance at the Old Man, but he was busy with the files.

And so they waited.

* * *

When Lee arrived, it was clear Trewlove and Strange hadn’t yet told him what they would ask him about, since he looked as self-assured as always. “Superintendent. Inspector. Commander Morse.” Apparently he didn’t think it necessary to greet anyone else.

“Mr. Lee” Commander Morse said evenly. “Would you please follow us to the interrogation room?”

“The interrogation room?” he frowned, clearly unpleasantly surprised, and even Peter himself felt a thrill at seeing him squirm. What must the Old Man be feeling?

“Yes. There are some things we need to clear up.”

Peter. Morse. Trewlove. The three young officers to question him. Although Peter personally would not have minded if the inspector had hit him again.

“Mr. Lee” Morse began evenly, “Do you know why you are here?”

“I am afraid not, Commander”.

“You are here because of two murders and several counts of money laundering that we believe you could tell us more about.”

“I am afraid I have told you all I know.”

Morse took a deep breath and began with the questioning.

* * *

An hour later, Fred, standing and watching through the window, had the feeling they were going nowhere. Lee was simply denying everything, and he didn’t seem to take their hints that they knew more than the let on in any way seriously, which of course they weren’t.

And then something changed. He couldn’t exactly place it, but suddenly, Endeavour exhaled and…

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He suddenly appeared more relaxed in his chair. There was a twinkle in his eyes he remembered from when he had been small.

What –

And then he put his hand in his pocket and very carefully pulled something out. Something small, something that fit easily into the palm of his hand…

He laid it on the table.

“You wouldn’t happen to recognize this, would you, Mr. Lee? I don’t expect so, not after all these years…”

Fred strained his eyes and realized and stopped listening.

Because this was –

* * *

Something was wrong. Jim had turned his head and suddenly the Old Man had changed colour and was staggering a step back as if he has been punched.

“No, why should I?” Mr. Lee was asking while Jim wondered if he should get a glass of water.

And then he forgot all about that because Morse was saying, with more emotion in his voice than he heard of him yet “This is the button I ripped off my mother’s blouse the day you took me from her.”

Superintendent Bright had grabbed the Old Man’s arm and was talking to him intently. “He remembers, Fred. He _remembers_. He remembers all of you. He couldn’t tell you until now – he’s going to explain, thigh…” he nodded towards the glass, strangely intent, almost giddy for him. “See? It’s breaking him.”

Jim turned back and realized Lee had indeed paled and was staring at Morse as he kept talking.

“You were so sure, weren’t you? After all, things had been going so well for so long. You just took it for granted that the Procedure worked without a fail every single time. You were too arrogant to consider that with older children, that there was a chance they would regain their memories over time. You just thought it would be alright to take us away, without thinking twice…”

* * *

And now Fred saw something else.

He had inherited his temper.

In fact, Shirley Trewlove thought it prudent to intervene and said quietly, “Endeavour.”

He calmed down. “Sorry, Shirl.”

He pointedly didn’t apologize to Lee.

Endeavour? Shirl?

“They are close friends” Bright told him and he felt a twinge of irritation that he knew something about his son that he didn’t.

“So you didn’t think, and you didn’t realize, and you didn’t believe we would band together.” A pause. Then, “Tremaine. Seymour. Parr.”

All junior members of the Firm, Fred remembered from the files.

Lee was staring at him in horror now., “What –“

“They’ve been working with us.”

“No, they wouldn’t, they are –“

“Yes they did. To finally destroy the Firm once and for all. And – I won’t deny that – to get revenge, Mr. Lee. Love might be a strong motivator, but so can hate be, too.”

“And you?” he suddenly challenged Trewlove. “What could you possibly –“

“You don’t remember me” she said quietly. “I am not surprised. But you stole me around the same time Endeavour was taken.”

Jakes had until now been quiet, but suddenly seemed to realize his chance, proving he was a quick thinker. “And you know how people feel about the Firm, Mr. Lee. So when we were approached by Commander Morse of the Guard of all people…” he trailed off. It wasn’t technically a lie; they had even approached by Endeavour, if only because of the case and not before.

Lee was clearly growing more nervous.

“So, Mr. Lee, I could keep telling you who remembers and who doesn’t” Endeavour said simply. “Or you could start wondering what else we know.”

Superintendent Bright had been right; Lee had been broken.

But now by their bluffs.

No, Fred realized, he had broken because he had realized he _hadn’t_ broken the magical children they had taken.

“I – I –“

“So you committed fraud and then you wanted the money. A classic motive, if I say so, Mr. Lee.” He smiled at him now almost predatory, but Fred couldn’t bring himself to worry about it.

On the contrary, as he slumped down on the desk and began to confess, there was only one thing on his mind. He moved to the door but was restrained by Bright’s hand on his arm. “I’m sorry Fred, not now. He is very conscientious. He will do his duty first. Remember his demon upbringing.”

He didn’t want to, but he allowed himself to be led away. “A cup of tea” Bright told him, “That’s what you need right now.”

He couldn’t agree more.

* * *

“It was our girl” Bright began quietly once they were sitting in his office with cups of tea in front of them. “When he realized who I was… he all but came running.”

A pause.

“She was taken several years before your boy, so she was already older when he arrived. She was working for the Firm, but had regained her memories – like he described. And together, once Endeavour understood what was going on and she realized the potential of a clever boy who might end up working elsewhere, they eventually hatched a plan. They stayed close after he was adopted too, you know. When she – when she burned up – he hastened to her side and held her hand for two days until she died.” He took a shuddering breath. “He tried to act, at first. As if expressing his sorrow for a passing acquaintance. But then he – _he used her name_ – the one we gave her – because she preferred being addressed as such when they were between themselves and after that…” He took a deep drag of his cigarette. “Shirley Trewlove knew her too. They have been coming to see us regularly since then. I can’t tell you what it has meant to Mrs. Bright – what is has meant to us – to hear her talked about, how brave she was, how good she was. In a way, they brought her back to us after all.” He put out his cigarette. “I meant what I said that day, Fred. Your boy has grown into a good man, with an excellent understanding and an even better heart.”

He could only nod. After all this time of worrying that he would never get through to him, to know that his son cared, to learn that he remembered – it was all a bit too much.

Dear God, what would his mother say?

The button. The blouse that had never been fixed. The blouse that Win had kept. The blouse that still hung in the closet, just like Endeavour’s things were still in that room –

He knew Win had gone there occasionally. He had done the same. And he was rather sure Joan and Sam hadn’t kept entirely away, either.

“The demon upbringing can be a bit of a hindrance, I will admit that” Bright continued, “He sometimes grows rather quiet and stiff. But that doesn’t mean he’s emotionless or doesn’t care. He does. A lot.”

He nodded again.

“Fred”. Bright laid a hand on his arm once more and he suddenly and startingly realized he would never call him Thursday again. He wasn’t just an Inspector to him anymore; He was now Endeavour’s father, the father of the man who had comforted him and his wife at the loss of their daughter.

It was unfair to feel envious, and yet he did. Mr. and Mrs. Bright had had time with Endeavour when they hadn’t, not really.

A knock on the door.

Finally, his son entered – _his real son_. “Dad, Mr. Bright. Mr. Lee is –“

Fred could have listened what Mr. Lee was up to – if he’d been brought into the cell yet – or he could have heard Superintendent Bright answer “I told you, it’s Reginald –“ but it all zeroed in on one thing.

_He called me Dad._

He had.

Without hesitation, without a struggle, without as much as a wink. Just a fact. Dad.

He never remembered getting up, but suddenly, he was hugging his boy for the first time in twenty years.

For a second, he tried to briefly protest, and Fred feared the worst, but then, with a small sob, he buried himself into his arms like he used to do when he was small and scared of thunderstorms.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, oblivious to anything else that was going on. When they finally pulled back, Endeavour looked away to hide the tears in his eyes. Fred knew them to be there anyway; he could feel his own rolling down his cheeks.

Shirley Trewlove, who they hadn’t heard coming in, cleared her throat. “Endeavour?”

“I’m alright, Shirl”. He grinned. “Better than alright. Wonderful.”

“I’m glad to hear it” she replied with a gentle smile.

“So you’ve known each other a while…” Fred said, uncertainly.

“Oh yes. I _was_ taken at the same time as Endeavour. Adopted, too.”

“We were neighbours, and Mama and Papa would never have forgiven themselves if they had allowed me to forget human culture completely. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

Silently, Fred thanked the Morses. They had been honourable, good people, he was sure of it now.

“My adoptive parents are banshees” Trewlove supplied. “They’re still alive.”

The way she said it made clear that her birth parents weren’t. “I’m sorry.”

“A few years ago. A car accident. I just wish this could have happened sooner. But it wasn’t easy to organize everything” she sighed.

He could easily imagine that. Just the level of subversion it must have –

He suddenly realized something. “I thought demons were raised not to lie” he told his son, lifting an eyebrow.

He grinned back at him cheekily. “And I didn’t. _She_ did.”

“Oy, you –“ But he couldn’t bring himself to be really angry. Not today. And probably not for many more days to come.

“It was necessary, Dad” he grew serious. “The Firm has always been ruthless. As a matter of fact, Lee approached Joan for information some weeks ago.”

“What!?”

“That’s what the hex bags were for” he said. “Meant he didn’t think too much about all of you. It was the best I could do.”

The mention of magic reminded him and he shot Bright a guilty glance as he began, “About those powers you –“

“You don’t have to worry. Shirl and I are two of the lucky ones; no signs of any danger of burning up.

Thank God. He couldn’t have faced the prospect of losing him again. “I see.”

They headed back to the squad room and Endeavour continued.

“Now, with Mr. Lee having confessed and safely in his cell, we should probably –“

Yet once again, Fred found himself unable to listen. Now that he no longer kept up appearances, there was more than just the lad’s colouring to remind him he was their boy.

His steps and movements reminded him starkly of Sam – and therefore, he supposed, himself – while his endless patience when Strange required an explanation was most definitely from Win. There was something of Joan in his laughter, and of Fred’s Mum in his irritation when one of the bobbies came in and thought they were talking about a different case.

It was absolutely amazing.

“That trial is going to be a nightmare” Jakes suddenly said, lighting his cigarette. “They’ll have to find jurors who don’t want to tear him limb from limb out of principle, for a start. And guards who wouldn’t look the other way.”

“The Guard will gladly help out, I could imagine” Endeavour replied and finally, Fred could feel a warm surge of pure undiluted pride. Because he _remembered_. He’d remembered them and he had decided on a career in a magical police force.

Almost, if not exactly, like him. Like his Dad.

* * *

“I’ve asked the Old Man three times now whether he’d like a cup of tea” Strange confided in Peter. “He’s yet to answer.”

“I’d be surprised if he heard you at all” he said simply, watching the others bustling about the squad room.

DI Thursday’s eyes had yet to leave his son, and even Peter himself had to admit it was quite the sight to behold. Many of his mannerisms and even speech patterns were very similar to the Old Man’s (even if Morse – wait was it Morse still? He had no idea. Endeavour, then – tended to use more elaborate expressions), to the point that the connection between them would be obvious to anyone.

That, he was certain, the inspector loved.

“You’re probably right” he conceded. “Seems like a shame they can’t just go home and tell Mrs. Thursday immediately, though.”

“It’s – Endeavour’s duty. I think it’s safe to say he’ll always put that first. It’s the demon stuff.”

“But if he remembers…”

Peter shrugged, not really wanting to admit that he had checked up on a few things out of curiosity and worry for the Old Man. “Far as I know, demons don’t necessarily have to be born. For them, he’s both a demon and human. No idea how that works.”

“Hm.”

“Sergeant Strange, do you have the report?” Endeavour asked at that moment much as his father would do.

* * *

Two voices. Endeavour Morse – no, Thursday now – and Shirley Trewlove at the end of an exhausting day.

“Are you sure? Mum’s a great cook.”

“They’re your family, Endeavour. And don’t forget you have a sister – she might be a bit put out to find out we see each other more or less as siblings, too. We have time.”

“Yes. We do.”

This time, anyone would have heard the smiles in their voices.

* * *

Devour drove, which was a good thing because Fred kept glancing at him every few moments. The difference between what he had appeared to be and what he actually was was too striking.

He was humming to himself and Fred remembered he’d always liked to drive, even when he’d been a baby. “When did your memories return?” he asked.

“Fully? I was about fourteen then, and living with Mama and Papa. They knew about it, of course; I wouldn’t lie to or keep things from them. They were happy for me. Mama said they had chosen my name well since now I know what my endeavour was going to be.”

And he’d fulfilled it. By God, he had.

He watched a silent tear run down his son’s cheek and was rather glad the streets were quiet. Technically, neither of them should have been driving.

* * *

“When I turned eighteen” Endeavour admitted to him as they got out of the car “I came here one night. I was so scared that you had moved.”

“Mum would never have allowed that.” Fred had raised the possibility once, about ten years ago; had thought it might be a welcome change; and Win had shot it all down with a gentle “He has to know where to go”.

“Seeing you through the windows… I remember thinking how much Joan and Sam had grown. And I wanted to come in. So badly. But I couldn’t. The Firm… they were still so powerful. God knows what they would have done. Any child returning to their family could have sparked protests against them, and they would never have allowed that.”

And yet – how much Fred wished he had knocked on their door. He would have moved them to the other side of the planet if it would have meant they could be a family again.

But that would have been selfish, wouldn’t it, and neither the boy he’d known so well nor the demon he had come to know during this investigation had ever been selfish.

“You’re here now” he said quietly. “Want to knock?”

He looked at him, his eyes wide and shining, and nodded.

As always, Win brightened up when she opened the door and saw their oldest. “Oh hello, I didn’t know –“

And then he took her hand, ever so gentle and slowly, and put the button in it.

She stared at it. “But that’s –“

“You can sow it back on now” he said almost breathlessly.

If Fred had had time to think about it, he would perhaps have been worried she’d faint or be shocked; but instead., she did what he had done and pulled him into her arms. “Oh my boy. I knew. I always knew you’d come back to us.”

“Mum. Missed you so much, Mum.”

“Oh Endeavour”.

Fred cleared his throat. “Better call Joan and Sam, let them know.”

Endeavour pulled back, clearly scandalized. “But that would interfere with their duties –“

When he saw Fred’s face, he laughed. “Right. Human. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize” Win, who had yet to let go of him, said. “Come on, let me make you a nice cup of tea –“

And she let their son into the kitchen.

Fred went to the telephone. Characteristically, Joan barely even answered when he told her; he could only make out that she was on her way, and then the connection as cut off. Sam had more questions, but he promised to answer them all as soon as they were together as a family again. Properly.

When he entered the kitchen, Win and Endeavour were sitting close together, both with cups of tea in front of them; it wasn’t difficult to see that they were ignoring them, however, especially since Win wouldn’t let go of his hands.

He seemed to rather enjoy the attention, and after the last few weeks, Fred simply drank it all in. He didn’t mind one bit.

“Yes” Endeavour confirmed whatever it was Win had asked of him. “And then they –“

Ah. Making sure their boy had found a good home. He knew Win had been itching to ask for quite a while now, but had been kept from doing so by the demon customs she had believed Endeavour lived by.

No, not believed… the ones he _still_ lived by. Fred could tell. He did hold himself a little straighter, a little bit taller than he had to; his speech was still concrete and to the point; and he unfailingly honest.

Still, this was more, this was so much more, than he had shown them before.

Fred leaned against the doorway, suddenly feeling all his years. Today had been quite a lot.

But then the children came home, and it all ended in pandemonium.

Sam, whose place of work was closer than Joan’s, arrived and clearly didn’t know what to do or say, since he hadn’t done so before he’d learned anything of what had happened today either; and Endeavour seemed suddenly rather shy too.

It was when Joan opened the door and rushed in, exclaiming, “You sure had us all fooled, Endeavour!” before dragging him into a hug that Fred knew all was going to be well.

* * *

“Man, that must have been a lot of work” Sam breathed while Endeavour was busy telling them how they had slowly undermined the Firm and also worked to make life better for magic users.

“We think – well, the healers think, that in a few years, they can prevent anyone burning up.” He sighed. “Too late for many, but what can you do.”

“Still – didn’t you think – well – it was all a bit daunting?” Joan wanted to know.

“Yes. But the rewards, Joanie…”

He smiled at Win, who still wouldn’t let go of one of his hands at all times. “The rewards were too great to contemplate failure.” His voice dropped. “And my name… we just don’t give those without reason. Demons, I should say.”

“Endeavour it will stay, then?” Fred asked carefully. He didn’t mind; he told himself; he wouldn’t mind. Their son was back, and that was all that mattered to him.

“Yes. I…” he hesitated. “First names… they mean a lot to us. They gave it to me because they thought greatly of who I was and who I might become. It would feel wrong to just give that away.”

“It’s enough of an honour” Fred said quietly “to have you be a Thursday anyway.”

He smiled then, even if his eyes were a little misty.

* * *

It was the next day and Endeavour had been persuaded to stay home by Win, who, if her shopping list to go by, would be trying to make him put on his body weight within the week; Joan and Sam (surprise surprise) immediately declared that they’d be staying in, too, then, and Endeavour, while obviously shocked at this lack of care for the duties they had chosen to undertake, was rather basking in all the attention he received, so Fred let it slide.

There were still things that needed to be checked and done, though, and so he went to open the door to Jakes half an hour later.

“Good morning, sir. I trust everything is…” He clearly didn’t know how to finish that sentence but was spared by Win.

“Hello Peter! Do come in! There’s more than enough tea for all of us.”

Apparently her mothering would not be contained to their son who had just returned, and there was little Jakes could do but let himself dragged into the house while blushing.

Demonic training, Fred discovered when he returned to the dining room, was one thing; two begging younger siblings quite another, and so Endeavour was busy levitating a spoon in the air.

“And you’re sure it won’t make you explode?” Joan asked with her usual tact and elegance.

“Absolutely. Mama and Papa were very strict when it came to my training. Of course, if I hadn’t been lucky…” he trailed off, sorrow evident in his voice.

“I wish we could have met her” Joan said quietly and Fred understood they were talking of Kiss Bright.

“You would have liked her immensely. Shirl and her were close too, you know.”

“Ah.” Fred felt a slight tension in the air, undoubtedly caused by the fact that Joan still held by the fact that Endeavour was her big brother, and she was the only little sister he had; well, she would get used to it. She always did.

“I am glad I got to meet her parents, even if I put the entire operation in danger” he continued, looking a bit sheepish.

“You made it in the end, though” Sam told him, his face glowing with hero worship, and Fred realized that getting to know his brother had actually done little to assuage that problem.

It was Endeavour who first noticed them, of course. “Good morning, Sergeant Jakes.”

“Peter, please.”

Again, a slight hesitation, his demonic senses telling him that this was hardly the proper way to do things before he remembered he was among humans. “Endeavour, then.”

He accepted it without hesitation. “Mr. Lee appears to have spent a rather restless night, sir.”

“Good” Win said with as much venom in her voice as Fred had ever heard from her, putting down the cups with a little more force than necessary. “God knows how many families he gave sleepless nights over the years.”

Fred knew she hadn’t slept well for years after their son had been taken. Mostly because he hadn’t, either.

“Yes” Jakes was clearly unsure how to respond. “Quite.”

“Endeavour’s staying home today” Fred told him.

He shrugged in that (human!) way that said _what can you do_ just as his mother arrived with breakfast – which Fred was rather sure contained more food than he had ever seen in their kitchen. “Yes, yes, now sit down. You too, Sergeant; you look a little drawn out.”

Fred couldn’t for the life of him understand what she found to object in Jakes’ usual well-dressed appearance, but he was obviously unable to resist, so he complied.

The phone rang. “That’ll be Shirl” Endeavour said, getting up despite his mother’s protest.

Win, of course, immediately had another idea. “Invite her to lunch, dear.”

“I will, Mum”. He sounded slightly amused and awed at the same time and Fred saw his usually stoic sergeant take a sip of tea to hide his smile.

He could hear Endeavour talking on the phone. It still felt surreal; their boy was back, was finally back, and they could get to know him all over again.

There had been a part of Fred that, over the years, had wondered whether he might not be dead. He knew that Win had never wavered, never allowed the possibility to enter her mind; but he hadn’t been able to help it.

But there he was.

Unexpectedly, he had to blink back a few tears again.

_My son._

Jakes cleared his throat. “We should probably be going, sir –“

“But you haven’t had a second helping yet!”

“I’m full, Mrs. Thursday, really” he pleaded.

“Fine. But let me make you a sandwich.”

Now the looks Jakes was bestowing on him were full of panic, but Fred deicide it might do him some good to feel looked after.

Endeavour slipped back into the room and, at his mother’s insistence, had some more. “Shirl says all’s well. They’re very busy with the phones, though; now that the Firm’s leadership has collapsed completely and the Agreement is all but in tatters since Lee was the one to draft it amongst others, people have decided they might as well learn about the children _now_.”

“About time if you ask me” Jakes blurted out. “Those wankers don’t deserve any consideration anyway.”

Endeavour appeared downright scandalized, but Win had obviously heard, since the sergeant was presented with _two_ sandwiches.

“How does this work, anyway?” Sam asked. “Not that I’m not glad this has ruined the Firm forever, but I can’t say I understand whys.”

“Article 435, paragraph 14, subsection 6” Endeavour replied. “If a senior member of the Firm is prosecuted for an indictable offence, the Agreement that the Firm should not be scrutinized is null and void. Lee was nothing if not conceited; he thought he could get away with it.”

“Why do I have the feeling that you wrote that?”

“I made have made a few… suggestions” he said, grinning like a little boy – and indeed it was the smile he used to wear when playing around with his siblings. Judging from Win’s face, she had noticed it too.

“Mum” Endeavour said, carefully, “I know you’d like me to stay, but I really should go in. There are things to be done; can’t let Shirl do it all by herself.”

Win considered that, then sighed. “Fine. Promise me to call in? And still come home for lunch?”

“Whatever you want, Mum.”

* * *

Fred, Endeavour and Jakes left together. He frowned when he stepped outside. Not because of anything that was wrong, but because things felt… different. And of course they were. Their son was back. But no; this was about the atmosphere of the street.

Of course people, neighbours, had come and gone in the past twenty years, but there were quite a few that had known they had had three children originally and who hadn’t been able to look them in the eyes for quite a while after that day.

And of course none of them had ever mentioned their oldest to them. But something had hung around, something indescribable, something almost ethereal, as if the houses had known something was missing.

Today all of that was gone, and, as if she had waited for them to come out, Mrs. Young from two houses down came hurried towards him. Now in her eighties and fit as a fiddle, she was still a much sought-after babysitter. “Mr. Thursday!”

“Good morning.”

She turned to Endeavour. “And then you are…”

“Endeavour” he said quickly.” Endeavour Thursday. Hello, Mrs. Young.”

Her face lit up, and any qualms Fred might have had evaporated at her obvious happiness. “I heard the news on the radio – they say no more control now, everyone can just learn what happened to their child, and I was wondering – Oh, I am _so_ glad! Haven’t you grown into a handsome young man. Just like your Dad.”

He was actually blushing. “Thank you, Mrs. Young.”

“Oh it’s Cynthia now; you are clearly old enough.” She smiled. “Most of us here on the street are too shy to say it, but we are all so glad”.

It soon transpired that she wasn’t the only one.

The city they drove through was not the same one they had left behind last night when Fred had been in such a hurry to get their boy home. No; the city was waking up in more ways than one.

They had deliberately kept away from newspapers, the radio or the TV, but now Fred could read the headlines as they drove by.

_Firm at the end_

_Firm’s leader arrested; all records to be unsealed_

_Firm shuts down once and for all as allegations…_

Fred frowned when he realized something. “Endeavour?”

And suddenly, he looked like he used to when he’d done something wrong as a kid and was very aware that they knew, but by God, he would cling to plausible deniability. “Yes?”

“Don’t give me that look.”

(They were both ignoring Peter Jakes at the moment, which was a good thing, because even a cursory glance would have shown them that he was rather amused at it all).

“This was even more complicated than you let on. I think we really need to speak to the commanding officer who led the operation…”

An even more innocent look.

“Endeavour.”

“We – that is, the Council and everyone agreed – that it would be best if the true commanding officer of the Guard stayed someone inconspicuous, someone who could claim just to be a normal member.”

“So you lead the Guard” he said flatly.

“I wanted to do my parents proud” he replied. “All of them.”

Oh. “It’s not that I’m not proud, son, but I’m just saying I would have liked to know.”

“It was necessary, Dad. I had to keep as many people as safe as possible…”

“Even if that meant going at it alone?”

“I wasn’t alone –“

(By now, Peter Jakes wondered if Endeavour Thursday had truly been born or had spawned from the Old Man one day).

“That doesn’t mean –“

“I know, Dad, but we’re officers of the Guard and police respectively, we have a duty to keep our city safe –“

(Privately, Peter Jakes was rather sur there had been an element of revenge in it all, too, but really, why wouldn’t there be? He was bloody glad the Firm was no more, and he’d never had a family worth speaking of).

The argument didn’t last, of course; Fred didn’t have it in himself to berate him for long. And really, he had a point, even if he was hoping that this would be the last secret between them for a long time.

Because, he suddenly realized, they had time. For twenty years, he had been afraid that their time together had been cut short, and now…

“Here we are” Jakes announced brightly – perhaps a bit too brightly, proving he had been listening – but that was hardly his fault since they could have waited until they were in the office.

Which, Fred soon found, had transformed too.

For one, Shirley Trewlove was running her desk. At first, Fred believed that she was tying up the lose threads, but then Endeavour stepped up to her. “How’s it going?”

“We’ve already had requests.”

“Anything you need.”

She punched his shoulder playfully. “I know that.”

Fred raised an eyebrow.

“We thought that we would run this out of Cowley station – after all, those who are looking for information are mostly going to be parents who don’t have magic, and they would feel more comfortable here”.

Once again he was telling him things when he needed to know them, according to the training and upbringing he had received.

It still stung a bit, it always would, that they hadn’t been around to give him that upbringing himself, but there was nothing he could do but focus on the here and now. “Do you want my help?”

Endeavour and Shirley exchanged glances. “I don’t think that would be advisable, Inspector” she finally said softly. “We had to give out certain information, and if you, who got your son back, were to have to tell a parent who won’t see theirs again –“

“Of course.” It made only too much sense.

“Same goes for me” Endeavour sounded honestly regretful – he must consider it part of his duty. “I’m too happy.”

Granted, he didn’t look all that happy, rather calmly cheerful in a way he never had as a kid, but that was only to be expected.

He reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“Ah, just the men I wanted to see.”

They turned around to find Miss Frazil.

“Hello, Dorothea” Endeavour said in a friendly manner.

“Don’t give me that, young man. You know I deserve the first interview. We’ve known each other long enough for that.”

Well, wasn’t that good to know, too.

“And if you were so kind, Inspector, it would mean a lot to people to hear the words of a father who actually got to meet his child again.” Her eyes softened. “There are so many who won’t.”

He nodded.

“Half of the Guard are off today” Endeavour said, “I told them that if they want to meet their families, they have every right to.”

Indeed they had.

* * *

By this afternoon, the whole city had transformed into what could best be described as one giant celebration – of the life and death and return of their children. Even those who had lost them, like Mr. Bright – who came rather more often to the squad room than he needed to out of, Fred soon realized, genuine affection for Endeavour and Shirley Trewlove – could rejoice in the happiness of others.

And it wasn’t just that. No, people kept dropping by to see them, magic and non-magic users alike.

And to think he’d believed that the demonic upbringing had isolated Endeavour.

Over the course of the day, Fred noticed a few subtle differences in his entire demeanour; seemed their boy had been playing up his humanity last night, probably to make them happy. He was somewhat of a calming influence, rather quiet in his contemplative moments, and not as prone to outbursts as his own comments had suggested.

At the same time, he could be unfailingly gentle.

That afternoon, Fred watched him kneel down next to a small girl. She’d been taken only about two weeks before the Agreement, but the Procedure had already been done.

“Now” he said quietly, “Did they give you a name yet?”

She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears.

“That’s okay. Because, you know how children need parents to be born?”

A nod.

“Well, a few bad men took you away from yours a few weeks ago.”

“The ones who kept me in the big building?” she finally whispered. “I didn’t like it there.”

“I know, dear” he said ever so softly, sounding just like Win would have, “Nobody liked it there. But we can bring you to your Mum and Dad, and your memories will come back, alright? We’ll give you something to drink, and you’ll go to sleep, and when you wake up everything will be fine.”

She looked at him. “Promise?”

He nodded.

She held out her pinkie and he immediately complied.

“How long have you had that potion?” he asked as he watched the little girl being led away by a friendly member of the Guard to bring her back to her parents.

“A few years. There were always those whose memories didn’t come back on their own, so we had a team put on the case. Geraldine Bright was on it”. His eyes dimmed for a moment as he remembered his fallen friend. “She was so happy she’d figured it out before burning up.”

“I assume all those who came to you…”

“Of course. There was never any profit to be made for the potion. We magic users look after our own.”

They had had to, for so long now. But those days were over. “You’ve all had to pretend for so long” he said quietly, feeling something like rage dispel the warm glow that seemed to have permanently settled beneath his breastbone ever so slightly.

“I know. But we couldn’t risk it”. Endeavour sighed. “So many lost…”

His hands balled into fists.

“Deep breaths, Dad, and try and clear your mind”. Now he looked amused. “It was part of my training growing up.”

“And a good thing because someone has inherited a bit of a temper” Shirley Trewlove piped up.

He grinned at her. “Runs in the family. Joanie used to be a bit of a hothead too, if I recall correctly.”

“She still is” Fred, who’d managed to calm down, told him.

“Knew it.”

Trewlove shook her head. “Helpless. Helpless, I tell you, Inspector.”

He let the familiarity slide; after all, she was Endeavour’s best friend.

* * *

Two weeks later, Fred came downstairs to find Joan and Sam setting the table for breakfast that was cooking itself on the stove while Endeavour was on the phone.

“Shirl called” Joan told him, any slight jealousy at the other sister in Endeavour’s life having disappeared over the course of getting to know her. “Some details about the celebration.”

Once things had calmed down, there had been no doubt in most citizens of their old city that a public feast should mark the end of the separation between magic users and non-magic users and the return of the children; and so the Guard had been working with the mayor and other officials to make it happen. Tomorrow was the day.

Endeavour stepped into the kitchen. “Morning, Dad.”

“Good morning, son. Everything alright?”

“Oh yes, just something about the decorations. Apparently Mrs. Bright called her about it because this one woman from the planning committee was very insistent, but really, it was nothing.”

Not nothing to people like them, Fred thought, who had lived without each other for twenty years, but he didn’t voice his thoughts.

Win came downstairs. “Oh dear, you don’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to, Mum.”

She reached out and hugged him tightly to he3r.

When she pulled back, Endeavour made a little sign with his hand that Fred had learned was both a blessing and a sign of gratitude to the gods demons prayed to. Endeavour had made it every day since he had returned home.

Win gently kissed him good morning and, on Endeavour’s insistence, sat down at the table.

Fred caught Endeavour’s eyes and smiled. “And, looking forward to the festivities?”

Due to the mayor actually calling Superintendent Bright, he already knew something no one else did: the Guard would be honoured during the proceedings.

Endeavour nodded with a pleased little smile, then turned around and listened to what Joan had to say as they enjoyed their family moment before the day of organisation and making plans that lay ahead.


End file.
